The Second Prophecy of Mandos
by sevenofmine
Summary: Taking place years after Frodo had failed to destroy the ring, evil is rising in Mirkwood again. Elrond and Thranduil have to fight side by side, not without consequences for the relationship between wood- and high elves... T-rated version of my story "A Night of fulfilled Desires".
1. Chapters 1-3

**This is the T-rated version of my mature story "A Night of fulfilled Desires". I cut out the sex and most of the violence scenes. I tried to keep most of the plot, but had to rewrite small details because of the parts that I deleted. If you are over 18 and not opposed to reading explicit sex scenes, I strongly recommend your the uncensored version.**

**I hope you have fun with either story, and I would appreciate a comment.**

* * *

When Lord Elrond looked up, he could not process what he saw. He could not identify single individuals, and the colours around him blurred into smear that resembled the paintings of when his sons had been young and played with the colours that they had found in Lindir's study. After a few seconds, his eyes recognised the shape of Orc bodies in various stages of grey with splashes of red blood wetting their skin and the grass on which they lay. To his dismay, he now realised how many of his own kind were among the dead.

He started counting when he walked the battlefield. It was a futile endeavour as his shoes and his robe were soaked in the red liquid already.

"The enemy is dead," Glorfindel confirmed loudly, as if the piles of orc flesh were not indication enough.

"And so are many of our people," remarked Elrond, though in a rather low voice. He sighed deeply. So much sorrow they would have to bring to Mirkwood. He lifted his head and looked around for the elves who had survived the battle. There were many he knew and was befriended with, but there was also a fair share of woodland elves who were helping the wounded by treating their injuries and supporting them if they were too weak to walk. It made Elrond proud – although he would never admit it in the presence of the Elven-king – that both the Elves from Mirkwood and Imladris were assisting each other, regardless of their origin or colour of hair. _Maybe need fuses together even the greatest adversaries, _he thought and remembered his own venture regarding the befriending – and more – of a Mirkwood resident.

Slowly, the elves had stabilised everyone to make their way back into the forest. Most of the horses had either been slain or run away, so that one elf was sent on the fastest horse to overbring the news of the won battle. _Won,_ Elrond thought and felt repelled by this word. _With so many dead, we can hardly call this battle _won. Apart from the messenger, the rest of the horses were used to carry the most severely wounded, but even without those who could barely walk, they had lost their motivation to advance quickly. Elrond himself felt comfortable with their steady pace. It gave him more time to think before he had to answer for the outcome of the fight before Thranduil himself.

The sun was setting when they arrived at the big, wooden gates. It was a wonder how light shone into the forest after all since the canopy layer was so thick. He felt strange when entering the foreign realm, but it might have just been the effect of the minor harms his body graced. The injured elves were taken to the healers, and Elrond noticed a light brown-haired guard who looked at him and nodded towards the king's room. He had feared that he would have to attend to this uneasy dialogue immediately. Two more guards were stationed on each side of the door, opening it for him. The heavy wings swung open, and there he could see the Elven-king full of grace and elegance, full of arrogance and haughtiness.

Elrond advanced until he stood on the stony platform in front of the stairs that let to Thranduil's throne. The elf had not moved since Elrond had entered the room. Not even a strand of his perfectly aligned blonde hair had changed its place.

"Tell me of our casualties," he demanded.

Elrond swallowed hard. Thranduil did not even ask whether they had successfully slain the orc army, he just assumed it.

"Many of us have been killed, many of us have been wounded," he answered with a dry mouth.

Now, Thranduil bothered to stand up and paced the staircase down with a confidence that made Elrond wonder whether he practiced this descend whenever no one was watching. The tall, blonde elf stopped less than twenty centimetres before him.

"You have been injured, too," he said and touched Elrond's chin with his long, spindly fingers.

"Only minorly," Elrond admitted. He hated that Thranduil looked down on him for that, but he swore that even the Elven-king himself could not have come out of this battle without the tiniest mark.

Thranduil's hair swirled but came to a halt as perfectly sitting as ever. He reclimbed to his throne but stopped midway. "My son's battalion encountered several Nazgûl burning a settlement of Woodmen. They have cast them out of my realm."

As that was all that Thranduil had to say on this topic, Elrond left without casting a second eye on the mighty king having taken seat on his enormous throne. _He must be compensating for something,_ Elrond thought as the doors closed again behind him.

It was getting late, and the elves who had returned from the battle were swarming towards the dining hall. Elrond did not feel much hunger, he rather wanted to take a soothing bath. Not only would it be warm and clean, he could also relax and review the events of the day from a wiser perspective.

He had been accommodated in a private room unlike his fellow soldiers from Imladris who had to share a room with four or six. But he was a Lord, and even though Thranduil did look down on him, he did allow him one or another privilege. He gave his Mirkwood servant the rest of the evening off so that he would be able to join the common dinner. Elrond started the fire to heat the water himself and waited patiently to ensure that the water flowing into the white bathtub was of a pleasant temperature.

His bathroom was round, supported by columns that were decorated with wooden leaves. The bathtub stood in the middle, elegantly, and Elrond dropped his heavy armour on the floor. He regarded his body and noticed how many scratches there were, glistering redly in the shimmering light of the torches at the walls. He stepped into the water, twitching because of the heat. But once he had immersed his whole body in the transparent liquid, he moaned in relaxation. The burden of the entire day dissolved in the water with the fine streaks of blood that came off his body. The water was shimmering in a dark yellow-ochre, now intercepted by brownish-red streams.

He had just closed his eyes when he heard the door creaking open. He was alert at once, but the silhouette that stood in the entry was one that Elrond was too familiar with already.

"I missed you at dinner," the young, blonde elf said and entered the bathroom without even asking for permission. He closed the door silently behind him.

"I was not hungry," Elrond murmured, slightly annoyed by his alone-time being disturbed.

Legolas came closer and bent down to Elrond's face. His blond hair was touching the Lord's chest.

"Your father said that your defence of the Woodmen against the Nazgûl was victorious," Elrond said while regarding the youngling's lips.

"He was exaggerating, that's for sure," Legolas said and inhaled deeply. He liked the smell of battle, of blood and sweat, especially when it was coming from Elrond. He came closer to finally give his lover a kiss.

"Your body marks a vicious battle," Legolas said, and his fingers glided over the many wounds that decorated Elrond's body.

"I survived," Elrond whispered and rose towards Legolas' face in anticipation. The young elf finally gave in and pressed his soft lips against the experienced ones from Elrond. "Does your father know about us?" he asked.

Legolas shook his head in surprise.

"Would he approve of us?" Elrond asked in a voice that a master would use if a blunt mistake of his apprentice had come to his attention.

Legolas maintained eye contact and responded, "he would never allow us to be together."

Elrond would have loved to stay so close to his lover and enjoy the moment, but he was abruptly disturbed by the loud thud of the opening wood doors. His head spun around, and he would have nearly yelled at the sight of a dark silhouette in the corridor, unmistakably the Elven-king himself, wearing his grand crown and flowing robe.

He strode forward with a hasty pace, the doors falling shut behind him. He stepped into the light of the torch, regarding from above the two elves, obviously having kissed a moment ago.

"What is this?" he demanded in a firm, nearly trembling voice.

Neither Elrond nor Legolas dared to respond. Thranduil's aqua-coloured eyes fixated on those chestnut brown eyes of the half-elf.

"It was me, Ada," Legolas suddenly found his voice. "I seduced Lord Elrond."

"I understand what you see in my son, but I am blind to see why my son has chosen you. But now we don't have the time to talk about this. We should go to the feast. The people are expecting my return, as well as his son, and your elves will need a strong leader like you." Elrond was surprised to hear a compliment like this from the vainest of all elves in Mirkwood. "And once we have done our duty presence, we may continue this in my private room."

Chapter 2

For Elrond, the dinner could not be over quick enough. They had already missed the most of it, but the elves started to sing and compose songs about the day's victories. Legolas fitted in perfectly, dancing with his long, blonde hair swinging around his shoulders. Elrond watched his graceful moves with amazement.

"More wine?" a servant next to him asked politely. Elrond was pulled out of his days dreams and held his goblet up to allow the red Dorwinion to be poured in. He smelled the liquid and took a large gulp. His butt ached and the alcohol lessened the pain. He also needed its dazing effect to come to terms with the unexpected sexual adventure he had just had the pleasure of experiencing. He looked over to his left where Thranduil was standing in fresh, elegant robes of silver and black. His head was lifted, his with pompous rings adorned hand held a brazen trinket of which he took a nip from time to time. He had completely ignored Elrond since they had joined the feast.

When Elrond felt the tiredness grow on him, he decided to put his cup on one of the large wooden tables and made his way for the exit. Once in the corridor, the music immediately faded, leaving him with his thoughts. He daydreamt of that patrol ride to the edge of the forest where he had spent an afternoon lying with Legolas in the grass near a river. But he was quickly caught back in reality.

"Where do you think you are going?" he heard the powerful voice of the Elven-king behind him. He turned to see Thranduil with a cup of Dorwinion in his hand.

Elrond did not dare to respond, so the king strode forwards.

"I love your son and that is all that I will say about it," Elrond said aggressively. He needed to show King Thranduil that he would do anything for Legolas.

Thranduil nodded. He appeared to have given this coupling thought. "I agree – for now. If you hurt him or make him unhappy, I will make you regret it," he warned him.

Chapter 3

As soon as Elrond opened his eyes, he felt slightly hungover.

Elrond did not dare to move when he noticed Legolas uncurl. The young, blonde elf sat up and looked at the other seemingly sleeping elf. He started caressing Elrond's thighs, ignored his genitals, and moved upwards over his belly and chest. The Lord of Imladris could no longer fake his sleep as he enjoyed his touch too much. He opened his eyes and looked into the beautiful gemstones that were Legolas' eyes. His smile was the cutest of any being in Middle Earth that he had ever met.

"Good morning," Legolas whispered and bent down to press his lips gently against Elrond's.

Elrond wanted to ask Legolas so many questions, about how they should continue, about his relationship with his father, about what his father expected from him, how serious this affair was to him, but he could not get himself to say anything.

"My people will need to see me the day after a battle. They will have to train again and –" he said instead.

"Your people know how to train. They are very skilful, and so are you. I have seen you train with the sword and move around the trees as if you were one with nature. Very sexy, you know," Legolas whispered and placed his hands on Elrond's chest. He listened to the rhythmic heartbeat of the Peredhel lord and started playing with strands of his long brown hair. He undid the tail of the hair strands above his ear that Elrond had bonded together and then started to braid these strands.

Elrond wanted to enjoy this care when suddenly there was a knock at the door. Within seconds, Legolas had jumped up and dragged Elrond towards the wardrobe. He then energetically opened the door and demanded, "what is it?"

"The north-west patrol has encountered another spider web less than half a day away from here. They have returned a messenger who requests aid," the servant stammered. "Your father has talked to Cwingand. He is preparing an appropriate army. Your father asked you to lead them."

"I shall get prepared," Legolas said while hastily clothing himself.

The servant only nodded and went away.

"Another spider nest? The Nazgûl attacking so far north… There must be something larger at work," Elrond said as he turned to his clothes.


	2. Chapters 3-6

**This is the T-rated version of my mature story "A Night of fulfilled Desires". I cut out the sex and most of the violence scenes. I tried to keep most of the plot, but had to rewrite small details because of the parts that I deleted. If you are over 18 and not opposed to reading explicit sex scenes, I strongly recommend your the uncensored version.**

**I hope you have fun with either story, and I would appreciate a comment.**

* * *

"How many dead?" Thranduil hissed in disbelief. His face reflected hatred, though it was not clear whether he hated spiders, or he hated losing. Probably both.

Legolas did not bow like Cwingand, the commander of the army sent to the spidernest, did. He repeated the number and watched another outburst of anger in Thranduil's face. He found for a short time that hatred made his father ugly, but he pushed that thought away immediately.

Thranduil turned away from his two soldiers. He breathed deeply, either to calm himself or to prepare another round of shouting and insults. Finally, his voice had come down to a normal volume, but this did not mean that his words were filled with less emotions.

"Cwingand, you may leave. See to that the wounded are being treated and that a nurse takes a look at your shoulder. Legolas, you stay."

His son did not move but exchanged a quick look with the oak brown haired elf. Cwingand was glad that he could leave and got treated, both because his shoulder was hurting and bleeding, but also because he was sure that Legolas was in for another round of being yelled at by Thranduil.

The king waited until Cwingand had shut the door of the briefing room behind him and then ordered his guards to leave as well and not return until after their midday break. The door fell shut another time and Legolas shrieked by the sound. It meant that he had no choice but completely surrender to his father's enraged mood.

He looked at him expectantly. Thranduil looked back at his son who could see the veins in his face pump the blood through the body.

"Arda, the spiders were too many," Legolas tried to soothe him. But his intent was futile.

"I do not want to see or hear from you before lunch," he said and left the room without looking back.

Legolas fell to his knees the moment that he was alone. Tears dripped out of his eyes and he hid his face in his hands. He rested in this position for a few moments. Then he stood up, supported his hands on the wooden table and caught his breath. He wiped the tears out of his eyes. Father got angry when someone saw him cry. And he did not want to be punished today.

He got dressed and walked out of the room without a hint on his face of what had happened. He joined the soldier's lunch silently. Actually, there was no one who spoke. The few soldiers that had returned and were healthy enough to take the meal at the common table were thinking about what had happened and how the spiders would have nearly had them. Elrond came late, too, and he took a seat, too, without talking at all. However, for Elrond, it was nothing unusual as he was wise enough only to speak when he had something to say.

As soon as it was possible to excuse himself politely, Legolas left the scene and sunk down in front of his desk and looked at the floor. He was so lost in his thoughts and pain that he did not hear the door open and close behind him. Only when he felt a warm breath near his ear did he notice the elf kneeing beside him.

"What happened?" Elrond asked calmly. His voice was like a breeze trying to soften the ocean's maelstrom that was playing inside Legolas' heart and body.

He felt wet tears running over his cheek again. Angrily, Legolas wiped them off, only to find his hand caught by Elrond's.

"There is no shame in crying," the dark-haired elf solaced him and licked the tears off Legolas' hand. He then put his hand around his shoulder, pulling the blonde youngling slightly towards him.

Legolas leaned his head against Elrond's chest and whimpered. "I Adar nîn," he stammered after a while, his voice shaking like the thoughts inside his mind. He felt Elrond's hand wander from his shoulder into his hair and caressing his head. He had never felt such soft touches by his father.

Elrond helped Legolas up and towards the bed. His body started to relax, though still slightly twitching. He lay onto his back and Elrond lay down next to him. He did not say a word but held his hand in silence. It felt comfortable and he wished they would never part again.

* * *

In the early evening, Thranduil commanded small troops to patrol the Mirkwood realm. He then called Elrond to him. The Lord arrived at the throne and dropped a small curtsy which seemed to please the Elven-king.

"There is something in this forest that makes its non-Illúvatar children inhabitants aggressive and belligerent. I have sent out our men to guard the peaceful beings, but I want to be sure that we find the source of this change. I would like you to go to Dol Guldur and make sure these abandoned ruins are as abandoned as we think them to be."

Elrond nodded. He had thought about this haunted place before. It had been a while since he, Galadriel, Saruman, and Gandalf fought off Sauron. If a malevolent spirit had returned to Dol Guldur, they should seek it out and prepare a response. Elrond turned to leave as he had heard enough, but Thranduil stopped him. "Take my son with you. I trust you to protect him."

Elrond nodded and, on his way, out, his skin became hot and cold at once. Did that mean that Thranduil approved of their affair? Did he not consider him too old, or not worthy because of his Maya-Human heritage? Did he not want a warrior for his son, a noble Sindar, instead of a scholar half-elven who would soon follow the call to set sail for Aman?

He was awoken of his thoughts when he nearly ran into his lover at the bottom of some stairs.

"Where so hastily?" Legolas asked, a smirk on his lips as he loved the inattentiveness of Elrond being lost in thoughts.

Elrond looked up and melted immediately in the ocean of Legolas' wonderful eyes. "King Thranduil sent us to support the patrolling guards and inspect Dol Guldur."

"Us?"

"Indeed. He specifically asked me to take you with him, Legolas."

"That is a good sign then, I believe. I will pack our horses at once," he said, and Elrond followed him to the weapons chamber.

Less than two burnt standard candle lengths later they were riding their horses towards the south. The last time, Elrond had been accompanied by his then-future mother-in-law and a powerful wizard. Now, he was with a young elf who he was also told to protect at all cost, and this task made him feel uneasy. He knew that he had the role of the protector in their relationship, not only due to his age and experience but also because of his knowledge of Arda and its occupants. His heart ached at the thought of the world east of the Great Sea as his mind involuntarily wandered to the Undying Lands and Celebrían. It had taken him centuries to overcome his grief and turn it into good. He had tried to do his best as Lord of Imladris and father to four children. Now, looking at Legolas, he felt his heartbeat increase and his ears turn red. This young Sindarin prince was filling his life with love that he could give, and he lessened the pain when the two lay together at night, his body warmth spending solace and comfort.

They could not travel fast due to the lack of light. It was a full moon but still, only little light faded through the tree canopies. Thranduil had insisted on their immediate departure and, while Nazgûl preferred to walk under moonlight as well, they had dismounted the horses and led them by the reins to minimise the noise they were making. When there was no light left shining through the thickening leaf roofs to illuminate their path, they agreed to halt and camp for the night.

The two lovers did not dare to make a fire as they feared to be seen. They tied the horse reins to a tree and gave the animals food. Then they sat down themselves on a blanket and silently ate bread. When they were done, they cuddled closer together. It was beginning to get cold as they were not moving anymore, and Legolas was freezing hopelessly.

"Come closer to me," Elrond invited the shaking elf and took him into his arms, lying down. He covered them both in a blanket and they woke up still huddled together the next morning when the first sun rays pierced through the thick layer of leaves and branches.

"Good morning," Elrond said and smiled.

"Morning," Legolas said..

"We should get moving," Elrond then suggested, and they started to get dressed. They still had half a day's ride ahead and they wanted to arrive at Dol Guldur before the night fell again.

* * *

"It has been five days since Legolas and Lord Elrond departed," Thranduil snorted and agitatedly walked from his throne to the nearest table, decorated with always at least two bottles of Dorwinion, and back.

"It takes two days alone to ride to Dol Guldur," Galion, a servant to the King, tried to calm his master down.

Thranduil gave him a sharp eye and returned from the throne to pace back to the table.

"Forgive me, my master," his butler then gave the initiative. "But I believe you need to be distracted," he hinted.

Thranduil stopped and looked angrily at his servant. He wasn't actually angry with him; his nerves just lay blank because if there was something, he couldn't stand it was ignorance. He eyed the bottles of Dorwinion for a moment and nodded. Galion went over and poured him a glass.

"Tell me a story," Thranduil asked.

Galion smiled. He indeed had a story to tell.


	3. Chapters 7 & 8

**This is the T-rated version of my mature story "A Night of fulfilled Desires". Chapter 7 is the first chapter that I did not need to alter to fit this story. From now on, I will have to cut out less and less because the original story increases its amount of plot.**

* * *

The forest canopy became lower and lighter the closer they came to Legolas' grandfather's former kingdom. They could guess that it was late afternoon. There had been a flooding near a lake that had turned the adjacent area into a swamp. The way around it had delayed their travel so that they now arrived later at the ruins than they had planned.

"It still looks abandoned," Legolas noted when the black stones appeared in their view.

"It always looks like that, whether evil hides behind the stones or not," Lord Elrond taught the young elf. They noticed the absence of bird chants. Not that there were many animals making noises ever since Greenwood had turned into Mirkwood. But now it had become so silent that apart from the twigs breaking under their horses' feet, they could each hear their own, elevated breath.

Legolas grabbed the reins tighter. Elrond noticed his tension and reached out to put a hand on the blonde elf's shoulder. "We are only here to investigate whether something is housing here," he reminded him, but that did not put Legolas at ease at all.

Lord Elrond rode ahead to cross the bridge first. It was old, and they could hear some stones loosening and falling down into the abyss. The wind made a howling noise. Even though there was still the sun in the sky, Legolas was not bale to make out the bottom of the valley on either side of the bridge. He could not imagine how beautiful and graceful this place must had looked during his grandfather's time. Now, it seemed haunted and it scared him. They arrived at something that might have been a gathering place centuries ago. Elrond did not comment on the memories he connected with this place but dismounted his horse and continued guiding it by the reins.

"It does indeed look abandoned," he said looking around while Legolas followed his example. Besides their footsteps and breath, there were no sounds. Not a single bird was watching them, not even a bat or an insect. The whole place seemed dead. They bound their horses to a statue in the middle of the place and started to investigate the ruins. But nothing changed much from their first impression.

Elrond strode towards the lookout on the Eastern side. Very soon, he did not hear Legolas anymore. The elf was light and hardly made any noise. Elrond envied him for this ability as he felt that his human side was rather heavy and anything but graceful. He tried to avoid stepping on branches. There must had been a storm as the ground was full of twigs and leaves and dirt.

Suddenly, something changed. Lord Elrond at first did not realise what it was until he noticed how he heard his own heartbeat. The wind had stopped. All of a sudden, not even the tiniest leave bent anymore. He had an unwell feeling and wanted to find Legolas and leave this place. He had just taken the first step into the direction from which he came when he heard a scream. Unmistakably coming from Legolas, a hot shudder went through Elrond's spine. He drew his sword but before he could make a second step, he was suddenly flung back and landed on the floor. Puzzled he looked up and realised that it was a man who he had run against. He held a long, grey staff that he placed on the floor. He was neither young nor particularly old despite the grey beard he fashioned.

"You are a ring-bearer," the man said and pointed with his staff towards Elrond's right hand.

Elrond let his hand hover over the ground to search for the sword he had let fall. The moment he touched the metal, the sword flew several yards away and fell down onto a lower level. Elrond looked back to the man to realise that it had been him who had moved his weapon.

"If you are a ring-bearer," the man now continued, "you are not an elf of this forest. Vilya was given to Ereinion. Are you him?"

Elrond now stood up. He knew that the ring he wore, Vilya, had been given to Gil-Galad, also called Ereinion, many centuries ago. But since his death, he bore the responsibility for it. "You have not been around for a long time," he concluded, "or you would know that Gil-Galad died by the hand of Sauron."

"I have indeed not been here for a long time," the old man said as if dwelling in ancient memories.

"What is your purpose here?" Elrond shouted. His patience was long over. If this person had hurt Legolas, he would not only revenge him like Thranduil would ask from him but like a lover who had lost his only reason to continue in Endor (=Middle-Earth).

The strange man chuckled. "To prepare Arda Marred for the return of The King of the World," he answered.

Elrond wanted to respond but was too surprised by whatever this old man wanted to tell him. So he decided for a one-word question instead, "what?"

"The first dark Lord will return, and Pallando and I have been chosen to prepare these lands for his arrival."

Elrond sighed. "You are Alatar," he muttered, referring to the blue wizard who had once come to middle-earth to support the fight against Sauron. But if he spoke of the return of Morgoth, why should he help him? He had been sent to their region to help the battle against Sauron, a servant of Morgoth. "You were sent here to support our fight against evil. Against Morgoth and his servant Sauron," Elrond said loudly.

"My intents had been misled. In the east, I realised my true purpose!", the wizard shouted aloud and grinned.

_Great_, Elrond thought._ The blue wizards had journeyed to the east to free the world from the influence of evil, but instead they have been corrupted by it themselves_.

"The first dark lord will return through the Door of Night and will cast a shadow through all of the Eastern world. And once the mortals have fallen, the Valar will follow!" Alatar shouted and held his wizard staff high into the air. Suddenly, the wind was back and so were thunder and lightning. Elrond used this moment of noise and light to jump over the ledge on his right and down into the blackness of the ruins. He heard the blue wizard shout something in Black Speech and the stones above him started to crack. The ceiling was giving in and Elrond fetched his sword just in time and jumped out of the way before the heavy rocks began to fall down. He rolled himself into a nearby corridor but was still covered in dust when his heavy body came to a halt. He coughed and panted for air, but still he pushed himself up and started running towards where he guessed Legolas to have screamed.

He heard more stone crashing behind him and tried to hide behind ruin walls to avoid Alatar. But suddenly, the wizard jumped down right in front of him. Elrond wielded his sword at him immediately, but the blue wizard used his staff to shield himself from the attack. They both stumbled backwards. Alatar started muttering words in black speech and stomped his staff onto the floor. Blue sparks flew out of the top crystal towards Elrond and the half-elf was pulled back and crashed into a stone wall. He tasted his own blood in his mouth and spat it out.

"This should have killed you, even though you possess Vilya. A curse dark enough to kill an elf as old as you," Alatar shouted in disbelief and swung his staff once again.

"I am not an elf," Elrond answered. He hardly ever got angry, but he felt something in his inner body boiling. Maybe it was his human rage. But he could also feel how the nearly lost part of Maiar heritance came up in him and flew like energy through his body. All of it combined made him stand up once more and grab his sword. "I am Elrond Peredhil, part-Elf, part-man, and part Maia," he shouted and jumped forwards. Alatar, a Maia having descended to Middle-Earth as a wizard, had not foreseen to fight against someone who possessed powers similar to him, even though in only minor quantity. Surprised by Elrond's sudden attack, the sword clashed against the staff and they both fell to the ground. The staff was mere wood but incorporated magic, so it did not burst by the first impact of the sword.

Without either of the weapons, Elrond and Alatar rolled around on the floor. The Peredhil reached out and hit the old wizard who was nearly powerless without his staff. The wind started to blow again and stronger, and lightning began to illuminate the scene. Alatar managed to kick Elrond into his yembags and crawled towards his staff. Elrond, fighting against the wind, tried to reach his sword. But the wizard was faster. He grabbed the wooden stick and turned around, facing Elrond whose arm was too short to reach his weapon.

* * *

"You told him?" Lindir could not believe his ears. Why on Arda would Galion tell his master about their night together?

Galion nodded.

"But what will he think of me? What if he tells Elrond?" Lindir started to feel hot. He suddenly felt something cool and realised that it was Galion's hand on his.

"Do not worry, Lindir. King Thranduil will not think any lesser of you. In contrast, I think he finds it very normal that despite our different origins, we can fall in love."

Lindir's dark brown eyes were filled with tears. He had started to think of Elrond and his quest again. What if he did not come back? He had built Rivendell and he had filled it with life. Without him, it would become a sad place. It was still decades before they planned to sail West. If Elrond did not return, many would leave now. Who would guide those who wished to remain? What about the many dangers that Rivendell – or any city in Middle Earth – faced? Before he could fall along this spiral downwards of his thoughts, he felt something wet on his mouth. It took him a second to realise what it was, but then he responded Galion's kiss.

But in the blink of an eye, he stepped back. "Not here," he whispered and looked around paranoidly. "What if someone sees us?"

"We'll go to the wine cellar then. King Thranduil is out with the second troop to kill a spider nest and no one will be there at this time of the day." Lindir nodded, and the wood-elf took his hand and guided him downstairs. The storage of the king's favourite beverages was indeed empty of people, and so they found a comfortable niche in which Galion pressed Lindir against a barrel.

Lindir did not know how to resist this elf with his long, squirrel-brown hair.


	4. Chapters 9-11

**This is the T-rated version of my mature story "A Night of fulfilled Desires". Some chapters have been cruelly reduced and there seems to be no point in them. This is just because I cut out the mature parts. But there will soon come more chapters that contain majorly plot.  
**

* * *

Legolas could hear his own breath and his heart beat. He moved nearly silently over the floor, his Eldarin weight was not enough to make the branches break, but the leaves were whirled up by the movement of his feet. He realised how he could not hear Elrond anymore. The half-elf was heavier, and Legolas often noticed his human half – and was strangely attracted to it. It made the Lord feel more real and somehow even more dominant over him. It was contradictory, but Legolas liked it.

He was sure to have perceived a movement in the corner of his eye. He stopped and within the shortest moment, he had his arrow drawn into the direction of the shadow. There was nothing but black tranquillity. He sighed and put the arrow back into his quiver. When he turned around, he did not have time to react to the man in blue robes wielding a bulgy staff that knocked onto the floor and set off aquamarine sparks into his direction. Legolas flew back and heard himself shout in surprise. Before he hit the rocks, which lay scattered on the floor, he had lost consciousness.

When he came back to his senses, night had fallen over the ruins of the once glamorous castle. The wind had become strong again and he could hear stones and rocks clashing onto each other. How long had he been unconscious? _Elrond_, he thought and was up in no time. _He must be in trouble_, he feared. Even though he was a native to the Mirkwood forest and could see well in the dark, he had problems right now. He stumbled forwards, but then – most luckily for him – the moon came out from behind the rainy clouds. He could make out Elrond facing the man that had knocked him unconscious. While Legolas hasted towards them, lightning stroke the forest trees. Fortunately, it had begun to rain so that a forest fire was very much unlikely.

Elrond and the blue wizard were tumbling around, trying to reach their weapons. The grey-haired man had just grabbed his staff and pointed it menacingly at Elrond who froze and looked up.

"Drop the staff," Legolas commanded loudly. The wizard turned around and looked at the tip of the arrow that Legolas had drawn. During the distraction, Elrond reached for his sword, swung it muttering words of his Maia ancestor, and broke the wizard's staff into two halves.

"No!" Alatar shouted and sunk onto the knees in front of his broken staff.

"You will be brought back to the Elven-king's fortress as a traitor and servant of Morgoth," Lord Elrond said decisively and held the sword next to the wizard's neck. He did not react, so Legolas hieved the heavy man up. He did not resist but let them take him.

They returned to the horses and Legolas found some rope with which they bound the wizard's hands.

"I am sure that Mithrandir will want a word or two with him," Elrond muttered while they shoved the heavy man onto Legolas horse. They made sure he could grip the reins and would not fall of the transport animal. Then Elrond and Legolas mounted onto the Lord's horse. While Elrond held the reins, Legolas would guide his horse with an additional rope. Their journey back took long as they constantly had a watch over their prisoner, even at night. They could not go faster than pace, and during the night, they needed to keep a lantern lit to keep an eye on the wizard. But the light made them fear for orcs and spiders, so even when it was not their turn to watch, they could hardly sleep.

It had become the second nightfall after the night they defeated the blue wizard. Legolas could see with his keen eye the all too familiar valley which he loved to play in as a young elfling. A guard on a patrol ride saw them and quickly rode back to the elven-king to over bring him the message.

When Elrond and Legolas arrived within the walls of the fortified castle, King Thranduil was already expecting them in his long, silver-glittering robes. His crown had changed to autumn decoration for it was becoming colder again.

"Ionnín," he said when Legolas climbed down from the horse. "Who is it you have brought into my realm?"

"This is Alatar, one of the Istari who came to our realm millenia ago," Lord Elrond explained.

"Correct me if I am mistaken," Thranduil said in an arrogant tone, eyeballing the wizard in blue robes, "but did the blue wizards not set out for the East and were ever since gone?"

"He said he came back to prepare this world for the return of Morgoth," Legolas informed his father.

"Morgoth?" Thranduil's face shortly showed an expression of disbelief and terror. He had been young during the war against Morgoth's servant and could hardly imagine the devastation that Morgoth himself would bring upon this land.

"Morgoth is banished and there is no way he can return… can he?" Legolas turned to the wise half-elf.

"I would have said no. But as Alatar seemed so far with his plans, I would not leave it to speculation. We have to make sure that the Door of Night will never be opened," the Peredhil said.

"I shall interrogate this Istari," Thranduil said and winked two guards over to him. "Prepare the torture chamber in the dungeon," he ordered, and the two guards nodded and took the old wizard with them.

"Do you believe torture will bring you any further in this matter?" Lord Elrond asked. It was his job as a lord to second-guess a foolish endeavour of his king, but he had to formulate it in the most polite way possible.

"Every man, Orc, dwarf, - and even a wizard can be broken," Thranduil answered, his ice-blue eyes shining coldly.

Elrond sighed. "I will assist you," he decided.

Thranduil's face changed only one muscle to show his surprise at that offer. "Your gift to enter another one's mind?"

Elrond nodded. He knew that he would regret it. Thranduil was much more cruel than he was, and torturing this wizard together would make him cross a line. But how many lines had Thranduil already made him cross in the last few days? One personal limit more or less would not impede the crossing towards the West.

Chapter 10

"A storm is coming," Erestor muttered darkly. Indeed, the clouds had gathered and were shadowing the valley in the past hours. Glorfindel ignored Erestor's warning though when he rushed past him to get the horses off the pasture. The sky was becoming a dark blue that gave the feeling of an early night even though it was only early afternoon. Glorfindel skilfully shooed the last five horses towards the shed and managed to lock them inside just before the first drops of rain reached the ground. He hurried back inside only to be nearly overrun by the twins who were looking for shelter in Elrond's house after having brought straw bales into safety. All three of them reached the last homely house just before the first lightening stroke afar.

"It is coming towards us," Erestor said as a forewarning and left to his family's rooms, reaching them before the rain had gained in strength and began pouring down on the roof, draining the acres, and filling up the river.

"Father always said that the best you can do during a thunderstorm is to stay inside, drink tea, and watch nature play from behind a window," Elladan said.

"I'm going to make some tea," Elrohir offered and went towards the kitchen. The chef and staff had left for the afternoon. Dinner was not to start before many hours and the elves wanted to be in their own houses when the rain began to fall.

Elladan and Glorfindel left towards Elrond's study. "I like thunderstorms," Glorfindel said with a slight shimmering in his eyes.

"Only when I am inside," Elladan added. "Father used to read us stories while we had our cup of tea. But one day, Elrohir and I got caught in a thunderstorm during a ride towards Gundabad. We hid among the rocks on a wide field and lay down as low as we could. The storm passed us by only a few miles, but the thunder was terrifyingly loud. When we could mount our horses again, we came past an old oak that had been struck by lightning. It had split the tree not into half, like you have heard of before, but into four equal parts, each spread out into another cardinal direction. It reminded us that nature is the strongest force in these lands and is never to be underestimated." The Lord's son had stopped in front of a window that allowed him to view the whole valley that had been plunged into darkness.

Glorfindel touched his shoulder, imagining what impact such an event must have had on the young elf. The scenery on the outside was occasionally illuminated by a thunderbolt.

"I know what fire can do," he muttered.

Elladan, knowing the terrible fate of Glorfindel's once glorious city, put his hand on Glorfindel's on his shoulder. They looked deeply and sadly into each other's eyes when the door opened and Elrohir came in with a pot of tea in one and three cups in the other hand. He balanced them towards the table next to a window and poured some liquid for all of them. His twin brother and Glorfindel joined him.

They were silently sipping their tea, the raindrops hitting the window in an irregular rhythm. Elrohir suddenly stood up and lit two more torches at the wall as the darkness had now completely enclosed the elven town. The moment he sat down again, the so far loudest thunder rumbled through the air.

Elladan twitched, something that did not go unnoticed by the blonde Lord. He reached out and touched his hand which was playing with the handle of his cup. "We are on the inside," he said. "There is nothing that can happen to us. Also, it is raining which greatly reduces the chances of a wildfire."

Elladan nodded, ashamed for his fear.

Elrohir simply continued sipping his tea. Another lightening stroke again, and this time the thunder followed rather quickly which made even Elrohir nervous.

"We should distract ourselves," he said and looked out of the window. He could not see anything but blackness and silver-looking raindrops hitting against the glass.

"A game of chess?" Elladan voiced a suggestion.

A lightning stroke very close and the thunder made the twins both jump up and rush to the window. Glorfindel slowly put the cup down and stepped behind them. He put a hand onto a shoulder of each of them and told them, "relax."

"The lightening has split a tree. Look!" Elladan said and pointed into the dark. Indeed, the aftermath of the lightening could be identified: A tree was lying on its side and smouldering. The fire was quickly put out by the rain, but still, having seen such a giant tree fall onto its side demonstrated the enormous force of nature.

The twins were calming down again and turned to Glorfindel. They indeed fancied a game of chess.

Chapter 11

Elrond had never before been down in the dungeons. He had heard Bilbo's story of when Thorin and company had been imprisoned here. Even though Thorin had been kept lower than the other dwarves, Elrond was sure that none of them had descended as deep into the earth as they did now. The light of the sky did not shine down here and only the torch that Galion was carrying illuminated the way. The two elves arrived at a plateau and stepped through a dark, wooden door that looked very heavy.

They ended up in a room that was maybe half as big as Legolas' night chambers. The ceiling was low, and he saw a shadowy figure in the middle that had to be Thranduil. Only the king was so big that he nearly touched the ceiling above them. He had changed and wore now a skintight suit in dark shimmering crimson. His hair was tied back in extensively time-consuming braids that Elrond was sure were the doing of Galion. He stood out from the background as his blonde hair and elegant robes were in contrast to the dampness and foul smell of the place. There were three fireplaces which illuminated the scene in addition to Galion's torch which he put into a holder. There were benches and tables with all kinds of instruments and ropes. Elrond wondered whether the king went down to these dungeons for more than just torture sometimes.

In front of Thranduil hang Alatar from the ceiling, his wrists chained. Elrond had never seen someone who was not a dwarf to be that hairy and he found it repugnant. Obviously, so did Thranduil. His face told him that he did not want to spend more time with this enterprise than necessary.

Thranduil strode over to the tables and regarded the instruments most of which Lord Elrond could not identify after centuries of war and terror in Middle Earth. His foster father had been a cruel man who he had never been able to truly grow to love, and even him he could not imagine with such tools.

"Most of them are dwarf-made," Thranduil said as if very proud of the irony. "Dwarves were also the most often recipients of their do." He took up a long metal rod, a fire iron, with a decorated stamp at one end. It would serve as a stamp to brand the skin of the tortured person and show everyone who it was that he offended. He held the rod into the fire until the end glowed yellow red. He then held the rod high, glancing at the glowing end. A slight smile flickered on his face.

Elrond hardly saw the king move as suddenly he already heard the blue wizard scream. Thranduil had pressed the glowing stamp onto his skin, his pelvis. Smoke indicated the burning of the upper skin and the sound was rather unpleasant. Elrond walked closer and immediately smelled the familiar odour of burnt human flesh.

"You came here to prepare our lands for the return of Morgoth," Thranduil said. His voice was loud and rough, and in these surroundings, a chill went down Elrond's spine. "Yet you went east with another Istar wizard, going by the name of Pallando."

"You will all fall in the shadow of Morgoth and condemned until the end of days," Alatar said when he had gathered strength again. The branding on his skin was still aching. But he was a Maia and he could endure more than any mortal inhabitant of Middle Earth.

"Even if you die in here, I will find your re-embodiment and continue torturing him," Thranduil said. His voice was calm. He knew that he would not be able to break Alatar. He only wanted to prepare him. If his body suffered, his mind could easier be broken. Elrond knew that he would have to do the hard work.

"I think I should offer my help," Lord Elrond said and stepped forward. Be it an evil Istari or not. He did not like to see suffering, but often it was inevitable. He had always lived a life of respecting every living creature and to avoid physical conflict if possible. But during the war of the last alliance and now as evil was on the rise again, he knew that there was often no way around inflicting pain on other beings.

Thranduil seemed to be disappointed that Elrond interrupted him so early, but he nodded.

"You are familiar with ósanwe," Elrond stood up and looked into the wizard's eyes who were at the height of his own.

"The power to enter one's mind," the wizard muttered crunching his teeth.

"I do not wish to hurt you, but you are giving me no choice," Elrond said calmly and lay his fingertips on the wizard's cheeks. He closed his eyes and concentrated on his mental abilities.

Elrond felt the presence of Alatar's mind and connected his own mind to his. The Istari possessed high willpower. Elrond read his mind like flashes of pictures, all without order, all of different length. The discussion with the Valar about sending him and the other Maia to Middle Earth, the journey East, the subduing of the Eastern people, the foundation of secret magic societies. And then he found it. Conversations between the two wizards, about how their endeavour was pointless, how their mortal embodiment had become torture, and how Morgoth promised them to return to pure light, to become free of any mortality or any pain.

"Pallando the Blue has also returned to Middle Earth," Elrond stated. His hands trembled, and Alatar was still fighting him. Alatar bit is teeth which added a noise that sent shudders down Elrond's spine. He focused on his thoughts. "Alatar brought together the evil forces of Mirkwood to start attacking us and men. Pallando is tasked with creating fear in dwarfish and hobbit towns. They want to destroy our will to fight before they open the Door of Night."

"How does he plan to do it?" Thranduil asked.

Elrond concentrated. The wizard was a strong maia, and he was only part-maia. But he knew that he had immense power, or he would not have achieved what he had. He simply needed to unlock it, to be freed of the limitations of his half-elven body. He felt like an intruder, he felt like psychologically torturing him. It was against his nature, but he believed that in this particular case, the end justified the means. Or at least he would keep telling himself this for the rest of his life on this continent.

Suddenly, Thranduil saw how Elrond lifted his fingers, breaking the connection. "What?" he asked. "Why are you stopping?" He watched Elrond step back.

"He and Pallando planned to slaughter Eärendil," Lord Elrond stammered. "They were to meet west of Mirkwood once we were involved in enough skirmishes."

"Your father, Eärendil, is sailing the sky like the sea, guarding the Door of Night and the Gates of Morning. If they succeed in killing him, Morgoth might return and destroy the entrances for the sun and the moon," Galion summarised. He had been standing in the shadows and not moved at all.

"'When the world is old and the Powers have grown weary, Morgoth, the Black Foe of the World, seeing that the guard sleepeth, shall come back through the Door of the Night out of the Timeless Void –" Elrond began.

To the surprise of both the Lord and the King, Galion knew to complete the sentence, "– all shall be darkness, for the sun he will turn to black, and the moon will no longer shed his light.' The prophecy of Mandos. Will it turn true?" Galion, who always kept his cool, seemed to be nervous. His wet hands were slightly shaking.

"If so, we will get help and Morgoth shall be defeated," Lord Elrond said but convinced no one. He was staring into empty space.

"Who will help us?" Thranduil asked. He stood up and looked at the Lord with a stern expression.

Galion answered instead, "Tulkas, a Vala of war, Eönwë, a Maia, and Túrin of Hador. He will be the one to rid us all of Morgoth forever."

"Lord Elrond," King Thranduil said, obviously not amused about the fact that he, the elven-king, had to ask someone else for advice. "What do we do now?"


	5. Chapters 12 & 13

**This is the T-rated version of my mature story "A Night of fulfilled Desires". Finally, the plot unravels...  
**

* * *

Chapter 12

Instead of giving an answer, Elrond turned and walked towards the door. On his way out, he said "I need to do research", and with that he was gone.

"We might still need the Istari," Thranduil decided and cast a glance upon the wizard, hanging from the ceiling. "Your body has remarkable strength," he said.

"When you are done cleaning, let the wizard rot in his dungeon cell until Elrond knows what to do with him," Thranduil informed his butler. "When you are done cleaning, tell Legolas to come by the throne where I await him. I shall then have you prepare a bath for me."

Elrond was so deeply focused on the papers of unbound parchment that he did not hear the footsteps nearing him. He was in Thranduil's study, something he had not thought to exist centuries ago. His collection of literature was by far smaller than his own at Imladris. He looked up when someone stepped in front of the desk. It was Legolas.

"You have been down here for hours. It has turned night. I brought you something to eat," Legolas said with a light voice. He placed a bowl of porridge mixed with forest fruits onto the paper that Elrond was reading. He shoved it aside.

"I need to continue this. The whole world as we know it might be in danger," he said but kindly.

"How will you save the world with an empty stomach?" Legolas asked softly. He did not take it personal; he knew that Elrond was very worried about his biological father.

"My father has sent troops to both the dwarf settlements around Erebor as well as the Hobbit-lands west to the Misty Mountains. They are to find Pallando and bring him here before he can do more harm."

"Pallando and Alatar were to meet West of the Shire, ready to search the Sea for Eärendil. If Alatar does not come, I do not know what Pallando will do. I fear he will continue his mission on his own."

"What about those who come to help us?" Legolas asked. He was visibly shaken by the news of impending doom.

"The works are incomplete," Elrond said with light anger in his voice and dropped the parchment. "I will need to ride to Imladris and consult my own books. They contain more detail about what is upon us."

"First, my Lord, you must eat. Or shall I feed you?" Legolas grabbed the bowl and pressed it into Elrond's hands. The Peredhel sighed and began to spoon it.

While Elrond was packing his most important things, Legolas returned unsatisfied to the king's halls to where he was called by Galion – only to find Thranduil very angrily pacing up and down in front of his throne. There were no guards around; Legolas assumed he had sent them away or they had fled from his fit of rage.

"What is it, father?" Legolas asked carefully.

Thranduil stopped to look at his son. "The first ravens have returned from the East. Were-worms have attacked the dwarves and men. Dale was reduced to a pile of ashes and dust. Erebor was fortified and able to hold off the attackers. Reinforcements from the Iron Mountains are on their way and I have sent troops of ours as well." He grimaced at the thought of helping out dwarves. "It happened over night. Pallando must have bewitched the worms for that they were more aggressive and harder to kill than normal." He began to pace up and down again.

"Have you drunk?" Legolas asked. He knew that his father preferred to drown his sorrows in Dorwinion.

"No, and that is the problem," Thranduil answered. His voice was harsh, and he was effervescing with anger and energy. "How could we let it come so far?" he suddenly shouted. "Why did we not act earlier?"

Legolas wanted to answer, but he knew his father was best not interrupted during such an outburst of fury.

"Pallando is probably crossing Mirkwood right now under our nose, heading for the Hobbit settlements to reduce them to rubble as well. Then he will find Eärendil and send upon us the end of all days."

Thranduil grabbed a wooden column for support. He felt a pain running through his body.

"You need to calm down, father. It is not your fault that we did not see this coming."

"I am the king of these woods. I see and hear everything that happens a thousand miles into each direction. Ever since the fall of Lothlórien I feel the more responsible for the fate of the children of Ilúvatar. Those who gave their lives in Dale were men. They are supposed to be under our protection; it is written so in our trading contracts." Thranduil sighed heavily. "What of Elrond? Has he made progress?"

"He wants to let you know that he is off to Rivendell. He has his books there and will continue his research."

"He better do fast," Thranduil muttered and sank into his throne.

Chapter 13

Lord Elrond had been riding for two days and a night when he arrived near Carrock. He could see an army of men and elves resting under a ledge. He rode towards them to ask for news.

"Where do you come from and where are you heading to with which purpose?" Lord Elrond asked when he came nearer.

A muscular, dark haired man stood up. "Many questions for a lone rider."

Before Elrond could respond, he recognised the only silver-haired elf among the Teleri as Círdan rose and spoke. "Do you have any idea who it is that you are speaking with? This is Lord Elrond of Rivendell."

"I beg you pardon," said the man and bowed.

Elrond gestured 'no need' with his hand.

"We are a joint army from Rohan and some of those who survived the attack on Lothlórien. An aggressive swarm of orcs have swept over our country from Mordor. We are keeping them at bay, and we are riding to prevent attacks from the north," the man explained.

"Mount Gundabad has sent its orcs into the forest," Elrond explained. "Aggression and evil have been on the rise for months and months."

"If we destroy the dwelling at Gundabad, they cannot produce new orcs there," Círdan explained.

Elrond nodded. "I shall wish you luck. We have found the reason of evil in Mirkwood. Two Istari wizards have turned against us. They are trying to do what Saruman failed to do decades ago. They serve Morgoth."

"Then what can we do?" the man asked.

"Destroy Mount Gundabad. Fight all evil that attacks you. I am riding back to Rivendell to find a way to save Middle-Earth. Once we know what to do, we will spread the word. Keep an eye out for a blue wizard. His name is Pallando and he is as mighty as Mithrandir."

They exchanged little other news about cities that had been attacked, that had been held or that had been lost. Then Elrond swung himself on his horse again and started the ride towards the Misty Mountains. The weather was kind and so he was able to take a mountain path that was the fastest to the city of Rivendell. It had lost most of its charm and since Arwen had left, he felt a great void. The leaves looked like an eternal autumn was upon them, and Elrond's mood was only lifted when he spied the blonde hair of his closest friend Glorfindel.

"What made you return so quickly? And alone?" he asked when he rushed downstairs to hug his Lord.

"I will tell you once inside. Gather my sons and Erestor. I tell you during dinner. And then I shall do research in my study," Lord Elrond responded.

While the cooks prepared dinner, he went to his private chambers which he had not seen in months. He got rid of his riding robes and was not prepared to see Glorfindel suddenly in his room.

"Have you forgotten how knocking works?" he asked.

"How's the king?" Glorfindel asked dryly. He and Thranduil had clashed in the past and that was the main reason why Elrond had trusted his blonde companion with Rivendell instead of working near the Elven-king.

Elrond swallowed hard and rested undressing for a brief moment. "He's fine," he decided to say.

"And Legolas?" Glorfindel asked softer, ignoring Elrond's obvious hesitation to tell the whole truth.

"As handsome as always," Elrond responded, having removed his clothes and walked into the bathroom to wash himself quickly with a soaked cloth. He felt Glorfindel standing very close behind him. "I am with Legolas now, Glorfindel, and I love him. Besides, we need to talk about urgent matters."

"You look tired," Glorfindel said.

"I have no time to rest."

Less than half an hour later, Elrond, Erestor, Glorfindel, and the twins were sitting in the dining hall of the main house and the Lord of Imladris explained what they had found out in the last few days in Mirkwood.

"It was foolish of you to ride here without guard," Erestor was the first to comment.

"I know. But I thought that alone I would most probably not be attacked. And I made very little rest," Elrond replied. "Now, if you excuse me, I have to go to my study." He stood up and left his half-eaten dinner.

"He should rest more," Elladan said as soon as the doors fell shut.

"And eat more," Elrohir added.

"At least he has enough sex," Glorfindel commented.

It was two days later that Elladan and Elrohir sat still together after an afternoon chant. All the other elves had left by now and returned to their work. Elladan had just finished repairing a water wheel down the river and Elrohir dreaded returning to the carpentry shed because the she-elf working there had a crush on him.

"I am worried about adar," Elladan said. He stared out of the window and watched the elves walking by the paths that let down to the river.

"He's been in his study for two days now. He hardly sleeps. And if we didn't bring food and watch him eat, he would even forget that," Elrohir agreed.

They heard footsteps approaching and shortly later the door to the eating hall opened. A guard of the gate entered accompanying a rider of men.

"I bring news from the south," the woman said. She was dressed in men's riding gown and her blonde hair was neatly tied to her back. "Orcs that had been housing in the ruins of Tharbad left and another great flood has taken hold of anything near the river Greyflood."

"Gwathló is known for floods," Elrohir muttered.

"The flood came upstream," she explained.

Elrohir and Elladan looked at each other. They knew that magic must had been involved.

"This is the doing of Pallando, an Istari wizard turned against us," a powerful voice cut the silence.

Everyone turned around. Lord Elrond stood in the other door. He looked thinner, his skin was pale, and his eyes decorated dark circumorbital rings. His hair was tied back uncharacteristically, and his clothes were anything but elegant. He gestured everyone to sit down. Before he began talking, Glorfindel and Erestor came rushing into the hall. Either they had heard Elrond's voice, or they had seen the messenger arrive at the gates. In any way, they took chairs to the table and listened curiously.

"Many, many years ago, Manwë summoned a council of Valar and they decided to send five Maiar to Middle-Earth who would aid us in the fight against Sauron, servant of Morgoth. Among them those who we refer to as Gandalf, Saruman, and Radagast. Alatar and Pallando, the blue wizards, left to the East and were since then not seen. Like Saruman, they were converted by evil and are now serving Morgoth instead of helping us defend him. They want him to return from the Void where he was imprisoned after the War of Wrath many centuries ago."

"Assuming he can return from the Void through the Walls of Night, what can we do against him?" Erestor asked.

"We can hardly hold our cities against the orks that the two wizards have made so aggressive. How are we supposed to defeat Morgoth?," the woman added.

"According to the legend," Elrond continued, "the Valar gave us the Doom of Mandos, a prophecy, when the first elf killed another elf, an act that banned the Ñoldor from sailing to Aman for centuries. However, Mandos gave the Valar a second prophecy, and I quote, 'when the world is old and the Powers have grown weary, Morgoth, the Black Foe of the World, seeing that the guard sleepeth, shall come back through the Door of the Night out of the Timeless Void; […] Then shall the Last Battle be gathered on the fields of Valinor.'" [History of Middle-Earth, The Lost Road and other writing, as quoted on .com, the One Ring Wiki, in the article of Dagor Dagorath, accessed 30/05/19]

"Could someone translate this for a woman who is not familiar with Elvish history?" the messenger asked. She, after all, had to over-bring the news and understand the follow-up questions.

"Morgoth will return and strike again," Elladan summarised what his father had just said.

"Eärendil, my father," Elrond continued with heavy heart, "is eternally sailing the sky with the Silmaril of his wife's ancestors. When Morgoth returns, so does he to join the final battle at Dagor Dagorath. The Vala Tulkas, the Maia Eönwë, and the man Túrin will help to kill Morgoth once and for all."

"Túrin, a man?" Glorfindel asked surprised.

"Túrin was among those men who came to Beleriand, which was later destroyed, in the first age. He was exiled when–"

"I don't think this is too important right now," Erestor interrupted.

"You are right," Elrond gathered himself. "Important is that we are before the Final Battle. It will take place in Aman, but we will most probably endure the consequences of its outcome here on our continent as well."

"So, what do you propose?" the woman asked. She wanted answers, she wanted something to do.

"We need to find Pallando, the second blue wizard. Only if we break his staff and stop him can we effectively fight the spiders and orks and bad things that fall upon our earth," Glorfindel said and looked to Elrond who nodded.

"Then I shall spread the word. Find the blue wizard and bring him to Rivendell." The woman stood up.

"To Thranduil's realm," Elrond corrected her. "It has become the strongest hold of Elvish armies and it is from there that we command our legions. Rivendell is where we farm and supply the other cities. It is well protected and has not been attacked… yet. Since the fall of Lothlórien and Mirkwood being under constant attack, Rivendell is the reason we still have the means to continue fighting. It is why we are still under such well defence." He leaned back.

The woman nodded and the guard of the gates led her out.

"If the battle takes place in Aman, we elves need to help. We have ignored the call of the Valar for too long already. We need to go to Aman and support our ancestors and the mightiest beings that Erú has created," Erestor said.

Elrond stared at him. He was lost in thoughts.

"We cannot just sit here and do nothing," Glorfindel added, surprisingly agreeing with Erestor.

"We are not even supposed to be here anymore," Lord Elrond muttered. "Our time is over. We should have gone to Aman ages ago."

"And now we go there," Elladan said,

"to fight," Elrohir finished his brother's sentence.


	6. Chapters 14 & 15

**This is the T-rated version of my mature story "A Night of fulfilled Desires". Finally, the plot unravels...  
**

* * *

Galion found Legolas sitting in the grass near the archer's training site.

"You look lost in thoughts," Galion noted. Legolas had not realised that it was so obvious.

"I miss him," he admitted.

"It is true love, is it not?" the servant asked.

"I have had many relationships, but none has felt like this," the elf-prince answered with a smile on his face. "I have never felt so naked and so safe with him." He imagined Galion smile.

Lord Elrond had travelled the uneven paths to Mirkwood so often in the last few months that even his horse knew the road by heart. Therefore, the half-elf could relax and sit back. However, he found that he could not enjoy the landscape, not only because the canopy of Mirkwood looked dismal and baleful from afar. Even the animals had retreated into the shadows and Elrond wondered where Radagast was these days and whether he was giving his beloved companions shelter from the terrors that had plagued the forest and that were still ravaging Middle-earth.

It took him two days to cross the mountain through a very new passage and reach the edge of the woods, and he only rested when the horse needed a break. He ate while riding, he drank while riding, and he only descended when he needed to relieve himself. The landscape changed and the forest grew higher the closer he came. At first, it was just the shadow that the trees drew, but as soon as he had entered the elf-path and passed the stone memorial of Thranduil's late wife, the sun seemed to have left nearly completely.

There was little light shining into the forest and when it had become night and there were neither stars nor the moon, he decided that it would be too dangerous to continue. He bound his horse to a tree and climbed it to be safe from whatever came out here at night. The orks and spiders had been defeated, but he did not know whether Pallando would soon notice his partner's absence and come looking for him. He bound himself around the trunk to prevent himself from falling down in his sleep. He dozed off, but he had weird dreams that he did not know to construe. He feared they were foreboding or visions, but there were no pictures or sounds that he could grip, and so he woke up several times bathed in sweat, but not remembering what it was that had shrieked him from his dreams.

He had no idea what time it was and when he could only remember that his dream had something to do with Legolas and death, he decided that he could not go back to sleep anymore. He untangled himself from the ropes and climbed down. He had no light, so he tapped forward with his hands, searching his horse. When he grabbed the rope which he had tied around the branch, he realised that it was hanging lose. It had been cut off! Had someone approached in the dark and made his horse run off? Why had he not heard anything?

The answer to this question came earlier to Lord Elrond than he would have liked: He stumbled over something that he thought to be roots when he found himself in a puddle of something slimy and very wet and nasty smelling. Horse blood! He rushed up and away from the dead body of his trusty companion. "Brego," he murmured sadly. The horse had belonged to his adopted son which had by now long passed. Suddenly, there was a wind breeze and the mighty Peredhil realised that someone was standing behind him.

All of sudden, there were light and voices. Elrond turned around and grabbed his sword, ready to attack. A shadow moved and disappeared. Then he heard the voices coming closer and becoming clear-cut. It was wood-elves and high-elves hunting the blue wizard! Elrond drew his sword and looked around. The torches of the elves illuminated the alley. He saw the shadow again moving into the direction he came from.

"Eastwards," he shouted and heard elves' light footsteps approaching. The first figures appeared in front of the trees. "He ran eastwards," Lord Elrond repeated and led the company to where he suspected the wizard. He recognised Lindir popping up next to him.

"There again!" another elf shouted. They now saw a blue hat between the epiphytes and bushes. The first arrows whizzed by his head. Then the blue hat fell. Elrond and Lindir rushed towards the position and saw the old man jumping back onto his feet. He reminded him of Saruman, but his beard was longer, and he wore a grey robe under his blue coat. Pallando grabbed his staff and muttered words in the darkest speech of these lands. He tapped his staff onto the ground and suddenly a crack appeared in the forest floor. It expanded and soon ran through roots and grass and moss.

"Back," Elrond shouted, and they all stumbled backwards, watching how a giant cleft grew in the middle of the forest. He jumped over the fissure before it grew too wide. Another arrow whirred past him and bored itself into the wizard's staff. They both looked to its origin and the Peredhil spotted his love Legolas in the tree, unerring as always.

Elrond used this moment and jumped forward. His sword clashed against the wizard's staff and they lost both their weapons. Pallando grabbed Elrond at his shoulders and pushed him back, but surprisingly, Elrond was not as weak as he had suspected. They both stumbled and fought, too near to the cliff.

"Elrond!" Legolas screamed, realising the danger. But it was too late. The wizard had reached Elrond's sword and stabbed him right into the chest. Elrond gulped, his eyes widened and backwards he stumbled and fell into the cleft in the ground.

"Elrond!" Legolas shouted again and jumped off the tree he had been hiding in. He ran towards the cleft but was held back by Lindir.

"He's gone," the high elf muttered, himself in disbelief.

Legolas shouted and screamed and sank to his knees. The blue wizard picked up his staff again and hurried away into the direction of the Misty Mountains.

Chapter 15

The depressing thing was the silence. No elf uttered a single word on their way back to Thranduil's palace. Lindir hung his head and did not dare to look at anyone. His feelings were mixed: pure sadness and grief for the loss of his mentor, and fear because he used to lead the elves when Lord Elrond had not been at hand. Neither Erestor nor Glorfindel were here in Mirkwood and he felt not up to guiding anyone or attending war councils as more than just a witness.

He had not noticed how much his limbs trembled with every step. He suddenly felt an embrace and his head was pressed against a chest he knew very well. It was Galion who had, together with the other remaining elves, come to the gate to welcome back the troops. They had realised very quickly that something must have happened when the returning elves had been nothing more than a funeral march looking company. Lindir closed his eyes and inhaled the familiar scent of meadowsweet. Galion closed his arms around him and Imladris elf felt sheltered from the outside world and the expectations that he would soon face.

Then the murmurs began. "Elrond," someone said. "Elrond," they whispered. Upon hearing his name, Lindir weeped silently. Galion tightened his grip on him. Lindir did not remember how he made it to lie down, but suddenly he found himself in Galion's bed, lying down to sleep. He could hardly keep his eyes open; he felt like in a dream, a bad dream. He heard someone else entering the room.

Galion looked up. Two other wood-elf servants carried Legolas into his room. They were puzzled at the sight of Lindir in the butler's bed.

"We did not want to let his father solace him," the she-elf servant explained.

Galion nodded understandably. He helped them heave the elf-prince onto the bed as well.

Legolas was as silent as Lindir, both their eyes were half-closed, staring into nowhere. The blonde elf's cheeks were wet with tears that did not stop running down and dropping onto the pillow.

Galion sighed at the view of the two grieving elves. The other servants had left again and now he was faced with the difficult task of looking after the two elves who were drowning in sorrow.

One of the servants who had brought Legolas in returned with a harp. Galion nodded to him silently a 'thank you', and then he sat down in the chair at the desk and started playing a slow and meaningful piece. It had been written centuries ago, about loss and sacrifice, about love and grief.

Dinner was as silent as the return. Even King Thranduil preferred to dine in silence. There was no music which accompanied the meal tonight, and afterwards, the elves went about their business without any chattering. No one stayed for drinking or games as usual. Everyone felt the loss of Lord Elrond. Even though he and the elven-King had had their open differences, the half-elf had been the wisest and most loyal elf in all of Middle-earth. A messenger had been sent to Imladris, followed by a small troop of archers. The blue wizard was on his way to the mountains and they did not know whether his path through or above the mountains would lead him close to the elven town.

Another messenger had been sent on his way to the Hobbit-lands, but everything from Weathertop over The Shire to the White Downs west of Hobbiton would be an easy victory for orks or were-worms or spiders. They also sent some elves to tell the dwarves of the Blue Mountains to send soldiers to Hobbiton and Bree, but as they were elves telling the dwarves what to do, they were sure to meet deaf ears. Luckily, some men had mingled under the elvish riders along the way and eased the path to negotiations. So it came to be that a dwarf army marched into Hobbiton one early winter's eve.

The Hobbits had not seen or wanted company from dwarves for many times, but they were also not the kind of people to tell them so into their faces. So most of them just looked out of their windows and watched as the inhabitants of the Blue Mountains who were little taller than themselves positioned themselves all around the meeting halls and official buildings. Some Hobbits who called themselves important came out and the dwarves explained their business. As they were here for protection and the hobbits themselves knew they could not protect themselves, they thanked the dwarves, gave them food, and then went back into their houses.

In Mirkwood it had become quiet and the spiders were not seen anymore, so King Thranduil started sending his men to help the rest of Arda. He had a hard time holding Legolas back who wanted to fight and even put him into the dungeons one night.

"You don't understand, Ada!" he shouted through the bars.

"I do," hissed his father, and then kindly added, "I felt the same when your mother died." That shut up Legolas and made him think. "I was so angry… all I wanted to do was kill. Kill orcs, kill spiders,… even though it was a dragon that had killed her. I did not care. And I don't want you to become like me." With that, he left and let Legolas think about his words over the night. The next morning, Legolas was awoken by Galion. He had had a rough night of sleep and simply wanted to continue.

"Get up, dear prince. The dungeons are no place for you to sleep," Galion said and lifted him up.

In the dining hall, Legolas met his father having breakfast. Lindir and the current King of Gondor sat by his side. They were talking about the sighting of were-worms near Tharbad.

"I would like to make myself useful," Legolas said when he approached them.

"You can help Cwingand prepare the weapons. Our fifth troop is leaving this afternoon to Bree," King Thranduil explained when suddenly a blonde elf rushed through the doors.

He stopped next to Legolas and was accompanied by two elf-guards who had not managed to keep pace with him. "We need your help, King Thranduil," Glorfindel explained and bowed just enough to please the king.

As no one replied, Glorfindel continued, "just before… just before Lord Elrond had left, he had found out that an attack by Morgoth is imminent."

"Where is this attack going to take place?" Lindir asked and stood up. No one had spoken Elrond's name in days and the sound of it sent shivers down his spine. His stomach turned upside down and he felt ill immediately. His appetite was gone, his head felt dizzy, he nearly had the urge to vomit, his feelings played roulette and his mind began rushing him through memories and thoughts.

He remembered when he had first time spend more than just a few words and niceties with Lord Elrond and suddenly he had found himself incapable of eating. He had worked through a night with nothing but adrenaline and the wake-inducing effects of black tea. He had not understood at first what was happening to him until he had asked Galion for advice. It had been clear to the butler after a few minutes of talking that Legolas had fallen in love.

"Is it like catching a cold?" Legolas had asked, unsure of his feelings. He had never had such feelings before, and he could neither name nor interpret them. "Like, I caught a cold and it will make me weird for a few days and then I will return to normal."

"I'm afraid it isn't as easy as this," Galion had answered.

Before, Legolas had always thought he would crush on other elves who he required sexually. But with Elrond he had not even thought about sex – at first. It was just his touch that he felt even days later, his hands that he could still imagine gliding over his back and arms. He could not even know how to put it into words what he felt or imagined. There was just this boost of emotions, this drive to not eat but still be awake and able to do things. Even though his mind often drifted back to the Lord.

"Aman," the blonde Lord answered, and Legolas was once again pulled out of his dreams.

Glorfindel saw the shocked faces of the Moriquendi, the elves who had refused to go to the Undying Lands or who had not been ready at the time of the Valar's last call.

"If we go there, we will not come back, one way or the other," Lindir said. His eyes were fearful and Glorfindel felt sorry for him. He had not been prepared to negotiate with Thranduil as representative of Imladris, and he must have had a hard last few days.

"If we don't go, there would not even be a Middle-earth to return to," Glorfindel said. He then grabbed a chair and sat down with the three commanders to explain to them what Elrond had researched. Legolas kept standing but listened attentively.

After Glorfindel had finished his story, no one said a word. They all needed time to think.

"We need the second wizard," Lindir said finally.

Glorfindel wanted to reply when suddenly a she-elf burst into the halls. "There was red light in the sky. It looked as if shattering the sky itself and it came down many miles into the west, behind the mountains," she reported.

"It won't be Morgoth himself, will it?" Legolas asked fearfully. It scared him even more that no one answered him.

King Thranduil stood up. "We send everyone west. A skeleton army remains here. We send word to every intelligent being on this continent. The battle of all battles has begun. We have to engage Morgoth." The she-elf nodded. Together with the two guards at the door, they hurried to the horn of the army. It was blown less than a few minutes later: It meant that every able person within Thranduil's realm was to prepare for war.

Legolas trembled on his whole body when he lay on his armour. His father came into his room, something he very rarely did.

"Before we leave, Legolas, we have to talk," he said calmly and put his hand onto Legolas' shoulder so that he would stop clothing himself. He hesitated and then indeed put his mithril shirt down.

"I haven't always been a good father, I know that," the Elven-king began. "I let out my wrath too often on you and I have treated you unfairly more than once. I was shocked when it was that half-elf who you fell in love with, and even more shocked when I realised that those feelings were real. I allowed it at first because I thought Elrond would be playing with you. But he was not. And I know what you are going through right now. I know that you will not care for anything when we engage the enemy. The only feeling you have is anger and your only goal is revenge."

Legolas sighed. His adar knew him too well.

"I was there. I know what it feels like. But there are still so many things to live for. Do not get yourself killed," Thranduil concluded his speech.

Legolas turned around and saw something he had never seen in his father's eyes: a tear. Silently, he wiped it away. Then he leaned his head against his father's chest. Thranduil hugged Legolas and the embrace felt so good. Legolas felt like a little elf-boy again, sheltered and cared for by his father.


	7. Chapters 16 & 17

Thranduil returned to his private quarters where Galion was already waiting for him.

"You stay here as master of the servants," Thranduil told him while he put down the elegant robes that he had been wearing. Galion had lain out his white armour for the ride and battle. It would be a long ride, so the cooks were busy preparing Lembas bread and other nutrient rich foodstuffs for the way.

"All the guards will be riding with us," Thranduil muttered while undoing his belt.

"I will look after the place until you return," Galion said and tried to hide that his voice was shaking. It was futile.

Thranduil put a hand onto his butler's shoulder. "I will return. I do not intend to stay in Aman if we get there. Not just yet, at least."

"Their last call was when the time of the elves was over and the fourth age began," Galion reminded him.

"When the destruction of the ring had failed, we hardly had any choice but to stay and fight."

"The ring is destroyed now."

"Yes, and men, dwarves, and elves paid the price for that it was so late. Men are not ready yet. There are still many dangers in these lands and with the new peril we face, we cannot sail."

"When you defeat Morgoth, you can. You can stay."

Thranduil placed his forehead against Galion's. The butler had to look up to him as Thranduil was much taller. "I will return, Galion," he whispered. "Since the death of my wife and the passing of Celebrimbor and Amroth centuries ago, I have not had any meaningful relationships. You are the only elf that still endures me."

"I serve you like I served your father and like a serve your son."

"You are the most loyal elf in all of Mirkwood. That is why you remain here in charge and if I do intend to stay West, I will make sure that we will be united there," Thranduil promised and kissed Galion again. "Because I do not want to lose such a trustful servant," he added,

Thranduil dressed in his warrior's clothes. Galion loved seeing him in the white armour that he had last time worn when denying the greedy dwarves help during the dragon attack that they had brought upon themselves.

* * *

Galion watched the elves ride away. It took him time to realise how silent the realm had become. Every able-bodied elf and she-elf had set out. Only a few cooks, gardeners, and weavers were left behind. Either because they were quite young and lacked training or because injuries from previous battles prevented them from fighting in one again.

If anyone wanted to attack them now, they would have the time of their lives. Galion chuckled sarcastically at that joke and returned inside the halls. He closed the big doors himself. It would be two days until he expected the messenger from the Iron Hills to return – either with the good news that the dwarves would join the fight or the bad news that they had invented new insults for the elves.

Lindir was waiting for Galion in the dining hall. It looked as if all life had left it which was unfortunately true. And so looked he, which was fortunately not true. Lindir had been told to remain behind as representative of the Rivendell elves. Rivendell would soon also be deserted as the elves were all going to war. The dark brown-haired elf wiped a tear away as Galion neared.

"I wish I could have gone with them. I feel useless," he admitted.

"They trust you so much that if they all fail, you are the head of Imladris."

"Which will be irrelevant if Imladris is destroyed."

Galion stepped forward and hugged the fragile elf. "Come now," he finally said. "We have a task to fulfil."

Together, they climbed down into the lowest levels of Thranduil's realm and into the dungeons. The only prisoner still left was Alatar, the blue Istari wizard. Galion opened the heavy prison door and put the torch into the holder at the wall. It was the only light source and the first time in days that Alatar had seen light. He, himself, had entered a state of dreams and hallucination. A simple man would not have survived all this.

Galion took a chair to reach the ceiling and loosened the chains around the wizard's wrists. He sacked down onto the floor with a dumb sound. Lindir stood silently and watched.

Galion returned to Lindir and touched his hands. He bent forward and whispered into his ear, "desperate times require desperate measures." Lindir was surprised that Galion could read him so well and he nodded hesitantly. "Let's get this over with," Galion added and gave him a quick kiss. Then he turned and bent down to the wizard.

Alatar was breathing heavily, his head was whirring, and he could barely see. All he could make out was the silhouette of an elf.

"We have found your companion Pallandor," Galion lied. "He did not surrender, so our king slayed him."

Alatar did not answer. Apparently, he believed their story. "Morgoth will return," he answered with great toil.

"He already has," Galion informed him.

A wide smile appeared on the wizard's face. "Then your days are numbered."

"All of Middle-earth is riding to face him. Morgoth will fail just like you, Pallando – and Saruman."

"Saruman?"

"Oh, you did not know? He also turned against us and he also died," Galion hissed.

Lindir stood beside him and tried to hide his trembling. He had never seen this side of Galion. He had been so tender with him and now he looked so evil and willing to do anything to get information out of this wizard. He was shocked, but at the same time he cursed himself for falling for Galion so easily. He was a wood-elf after all. They were more aggressive and less wise than the Ñoldorin elves, and their traditions and time-passing were less evolved. He sighed. There was still something about Galion that triggered him, something that made his stomach turn whenever his brown eyes looked right through him.

"Morgoth will wipe you all out," Alatar hissed.

Galion had not seen such hatred in an Istari before. The days without rest and light and food must have gotten to him. Or his journey to the East had changed him and made him forgot the ways of the Maiar.

"You want to know our plans, but I will rather die," the wizard added in toil.

"Lindir, would you mind holding the torch nearer," Galion asked for light. The dark brown-haired elf did as he was told. The pear shimmered in the golden light.

"Please," Alatar whispered finally. "I just want to return to a shapeless form. I want to regain my powers and I want to leave Arda again. This world stinks of humans and dwarves and I am tired of the elves and their beauty. Morgoth descends near the Weatherhills once Alatar has killed Tilion, the guardian of the moon. Through the Door of Night, he can return."

"What is his plan then? Why return at the Weatherhills?"

After a while, he continued, "Morgoth can only return to Middle-earth for that Aman is too heavily fortified. He will then destroy the land of the halflings to show the other inhabitants what they are in for. Once that fear has ripped through every living soul, he sails to Aman for vengeance on the Valar who exiled him. Armies that obeyed Sauron and armies that obey the darkness will follow him. He has hidden a ship that can carry every orc or goblin, every spider, every disciple of evil over the Great Sea. Once Aman is burning, the rest of Middle-earth will fall in no time." He spat out every word with as much hatred as he was capable to.

"I have told you everything I know," Alatar shouted.

"No, you haven't." It was Lindir who spoke this time. He did a very good job in hiding his contempt regarding everything that was happening down here. It was the loss of Elrond that now drove him. "You know what Morgoth plans and where. How did you communicate with him as he was a prisoner of the void?"

"Was?" Alatar laughed. "You mean he has indeed returned already."

"With the healing powers of the elves, we can make your body last for a very long time. Your spirit will never be free," Galion threatened him.

Alatar gagged and yelled. "There are rifts in the Ekkaia. Things very small can pass from the void into our world and the other way round."

"What things?"

"Crabain."

"They used birds to send messages," Lindir explained.

"Birds cannot fly that high," Galion said.

"I bewitched them. I made them strong. I made them small."

Galion stood up. That was what he had wanted to hear. He looked towards the open doorframe in which a shadow appeared. It was an elven messenger.

"I will over-bring the news," he said and disappeared to ride after the Thranduil's army.

"He was standing there the whole time," Galion explained to Lindir who had looked confused. "I have found everything out that King Thranduil wanted to know," he said to the wizard. "You are no longer of use for us."

Galion then drew his sword and quickly put an end to the mortal shell of Alatar. "King's orders," he explained when he left the dungeons with Lindir who was in a bit of a shock. When they climbed up to the king's halls, Galion put his arm around Lindir.

"I am not proud of what I have done," Galion told him.

"I have been through war and I have done many things as well. But I have never inflicted pain on a sentient being on purpose," Lindir replied. The halls were empty and there was no one who could have seen how Lindir began to cry.

"We've had peace for so long."

"There was never peace," Galion said and wiped the tear from his cheek. "Just no war."

Lindir fell into a hug with Galion. Galion smiled and leaned his head against the Imladris steward's. He held his hands tight against his back. "Soon, there will be peace," he added.

* * *

When Elrond opened his eyes, he thought he was still falling in the bottomless pit that Pallando had opened up. But he found that there was no air sweeping past him and that he was lying on cold stone. He touched his chest. There was no hole and no blood. He looked down and realised that he was wearing a light brown gown without any sign of his injury.

It was dark, but his eyes were getting used to the lack of light. Slowly, he gathered that he was in a cave, even though the floor was too even to be natural. The ceiling shimmered blue and bore crystals that he had never seen before. There were stalagnates, stalactites and stalagmites. The hall seemed endless as he could not see the walls in the mist that hovered over the ground in the far.

Elrond turned around. He walked into the direction of where the cave ceiling was getting lower. He came into another area which was still part of the hall. As he came closer to the walls, he realised that they were not shimmering dark blue like the ceiling, but in fact, they were covered with tapestries. Elrond regarded them for a while and followed them along the walls. Something struck him as familiar and he walked a few steps back. He saw a woven representation of a huge battle, many elves and men facing orcs and a dark creature that he knew too well. It was Sauron, unmistakably, wearing the one ring and wielding his mighty sword.

"The War of the Last Alliance," Elrond muttered and touched the texture with his hands.

"I thought you might recognise it," a voice behind him said and he turned around in shock. The shock quickly flew away as he saw a woman with white-grey hair in a mauve dress. "I took time for every one of the soldiers to be represented with high accuracy."

"You wove those?" Elrond asked and pointed at the tapestries.

The woman nodded. "I am Vairë, I keep track of history and weave it."

"Where am I?" Elrond asked.

"Don't you know?" Vairë, a Vala said.

"I died," Elrond replied. She nodded. "This is not me," he deduced and looked down on his body. "I am but my spirit. I am dead, and I have been brought to the Halls of Mandos." He looked around. It was indeed like Glorfindel had described it to him. But now he understood why his best friend had said that he needed to 'experience to understand'.

"Are you ready to face Námo who will judge you, Elrond Peredhil?"

He nodded even though he was anything but ready. This was not how he had imagined the afterlife to be. She guided the way around columns and down and up staircases until they came before a stone-throne on which a hooded figure sat. The man stood up and was several inches higher than Elrond when he descended from his elevated throne. Námo removed his hood and his age-less face stared at Elrond for a long time. Vairë silently left and returned to her weaving loom to weave the departure of the elves from Mirkwood.

"Elrond Eärendilion Peredhil, brother to Elros, wife to Celebrían. Welcome to the Halls of Mandos," Námo said and opened his arms wide to show off the vastness of his realm. "I have met your brother Elros many centuries ago, but time does not matter here." He lay his hand on Elrond's cheek as if to feel something. He closed his eyes and concentrated. "You from now on reside in the Halls of Awaiting, you must cleanse yourself from earthly burden and bath in the lake of self-reflection before your further fate can be decided."

"Further abidance?" Elrond did not understand. This was the end. He was dead.

"Your journey in Middle-earth is not over. Your story has pages left that cannot remain unwritten. But I will need time," Mandos said and put his hood back on. "I will need time," he repeated and climbed back onto his throne.

Elrond left the way he had come, confused by the riddles in which the Valar had spoken. He found the hall again where he had awoken. There was a cliff and in front of him was a sea of stalagmites and fog covering the ground.

"It is a beautiful view, isn't it?" he heard a voice behind him. "Just like the sea that we were supposed to sail." Elrond recognised the voice that he had not heard in centuries. His body started the shake and he felt plunged into a dream. Tears filled his eyes and he lost his sense for reality. When he turned around, his former lover Gil-Galad looked exactly like he did in his memory: tall, handsome, his eyes stern and focused. He was wearing the armour of the last war, but it was clean, and he was also without a scratch.

"I have followed your story," Gil-Galad explained and pointed to the tapestry in the far. "I am very proud of you and I am very glad that you have found someone. Legolas Thranduilion seems to be a worthy recipient of your love."

"Shut up," Elrond muttered. A tear was running down his cheek and he began to laugh. "Shut up," he added and stumbled forward and into the Ñoldorin's arms. Gil-Galad smiled contently and wrapped his hands around the half-elf.

"I have missed you, Elrond. But I have always hoped to never see you here," he said and nestled his head against his lover's.

Elrond could not help but cry tears of joy. He was incapable of expressing in words how much he had missed his first big love. All the feelings and memories came back to him at once. All the nights and mornings that they had spent together. His knees felt wobbly and he sank down.

Gil-Galad's smile grew bigger as he went down with Elrond. "I am glad to see that you have not simply forgotten and replaced me."

"Never," Elrond wept. He had always borne such great sorrow, and his life was formed by grief and loss, and he had had his moments of weakness that he had allowed himself, but he had always needed to show strength as a leader to his people and as a father to his children. But right now, no one was here to witness the great Elven Lord to burrow his head into Gil-Galad's shoulder and to cry him a river that would make Baranduin look small. He began to remove the elf's armour layer by layer until he was standing there with only a lose gown and riding trousers. Elrond hugged him again and dug his fingernails deep into the woven fabric. He needed to feel Gil-Galad's body and pressed him towards himself. Gil-Galad enjoyed the closeness he had not felt with his lover in centuries and tightened his grip on his back.

"I missed you," Elrond said. "Even with Celebrían and Legolas, I still valued our time together. I never forgot you. I never forgot what we had." His voice became drowned in sobbing.

Gil-Galad lifted his head and looked into the half-elf's old, wise, brown, watery eyes. He used his thumb to wipe the tears from his cheeks. Elrond laughed briefly, overfilled with joy.

"I missed you, too," Gil-Galad said and kissed him gently. Elrond's mouth was dry and Gil-Galad's lips were so very soft. "But I saw you, every day. And I love seeing you." Gil-Galad nodded to the tapestry again. He glided his hand through Elrond's open hair. They stared into each other's eyes without saying anything. The lovers kept silence for a long time until Elrond finally hung his head. Gil-Galad kissed the front of his head.

"I wish you could remain here with me and we spent eternity together," Gil-Galad said.

"Maybe we can."

"You have commitments. You have Legolas. You will return to him." He places a finger onto Elrond's mouth before the half-elf could answer. "Go take a bath. You will have to get ready for your return to the world of the living. You are too good for these halls."

This time it were tears of sadness that rolled over Elrond's cheeks. But he understood. He nodded and gave Gil-Galad a final kiss. When their lips parted, he felt like he had finally managed to make the good-bye to him that he wanted to. He gathered his clothes and walked to the Sea of Enlightment. The water felt neither warm nor cold, and he doze off with his head leaning against the rocks.


	8. Chapters 18-20

Chapter 18

They had been riding for nearly two days straight when they began to climb the mountain passes. The road was becoming steep and just enough for the horses to handle. They kept the nights short as they wanted to move as quickly as possible. Only long after nightfall did Thranduil signal the company to halt and rest. They had packed quickly and only the most necessary things for the war. The riders lay down with their heads on the bags and most shared blankets.

Thranduil and Glorfindel, the heads of both elf-kins, put down their blankets in quite remote distance to the other warriors. Thranduil was glad that Legolas was staying among his archer troop, but he looked absent and lost in thought. Thranduil could not blame him. He had reacted far worse when the love of his life had been taken from him.

"We stop only shortly at Rivendell," Glorfindel said and pulled out a map of Arda. They sat down and lit a small bonfire. It was getting cold and the night was dark without a moon. "We get reinforcements in men and supplies and then we continue our ride."

"Morgoth might have already left Weathertop towards the West or he is gathering orc armies there. We cannot know," Thranduil said and regarded the map. Arda was so big and yet too small for all its occupants. He had never desired to expand beyond his borders and there had even been a time where he had never cared for anything outside his lands.

His glance was resting on the map, and so he did not realise that Glorfindel's look had wandered to his face. He then looked up and noticed. "What?"

"You liked Elrond, didn't you?"

Thranduil snorted and folded the piece of paper. He stood up to put it back into his horse's pocket. He suddenly felt Glorfindel standing behind him. The Elven-king sighed. "I accepted him as my son's love."

"Elrond is safe in the Halls of Waiting," Glorfindel said and leaned his head against Thranduil's. "I've been there, I've done that. He is being cared for.

"Orcs!" Thranduil suddenly hissed and jumped up. Thranduil repeated loudly, "ORCS!" Elves began to awake, shouting to arm themselves and patrols spread out. It was a matter of mere minutes until the first clashing of swords. Within another few minutes, the nightly camp of the elves was turned into a battle place. Orc heads flew across the field, trees were drowned in dark brown blood. It was already becoming day again when the few orcs that survived the encounter hurried off in the direction of Rivendell.

Glorfindel watched them run away. "They will be slaughtered at Rivendell," he predicted.

"Saddle the horses. We continue our hunt," Thranduil shouted and climbed onto his trustful horse. It was the tallest and most elegant one among all Woodland horses, but nothing could replace his beloved elk.

* * *

The elves loved light and starlight. Some stars were still in the sky, but the lack of the moon dampened the the mood among the elves of Imladris. That's why Glorfindel had initiated more dancing and singing sessions in the evening and while he was gone, Erestor kept them mandatory.

It was therefore late at night already when Elladan and Elrohir returned to their chambers in the upper level of Elrond's house. They stood a while in the corridor, not knowing what to say. Sometimes, they preferred to sleep in the same bed to spend each other comfort. Without verbal communication, they knew that tonight was such a night.

Elrohir entered silently Elladan's room and they lit a torch at the wall. They did not want the night to be hulled in complete darkness.

"It is scary looking outside," Elladan said. There were hardly lights lit in the valley as most elves had spent their night at the festival indoors and were now tapsing to their homes.

Elrohir put a hand onto his brother's shoulder. "It is also becoming colder. Winter is coming."

Suddenly there was light outside and elves were in the vicinity, shouting something they could not make out yet. When they ran outside, they could clearly hear the elves yelling of orcs and running to the torches to cast light into the valley. It did not take long for the first orc creatures to show themselves.

Elladan and Elrohir ran back inside at once and grabbed their swords. Five minutes later, they were engaged in the fight at the border of their city as the orcs had probably been disoriented and had wanted to avoid the Elvish settlement. Soon thereafter, the Imladris elves also found out what it was that made the orcs so disoriented: Thranduil, Glorfindel and company came galloping through the dark. It must have been the whole woodland realm that followed them.

"What is happening?" Erestor asked. He had just been slaughtering three Orcs who now lay dismembered on top of each other.

"We are going to fight Morgoth," Glorfindel answered while beheading an orc. "We ride to the coast and sail to Aman to save our beloved lands," he added while stabbing the heart of another one. "But first we need to slay these misborn and restock our supplies."

"And we will take every able warrior with us," Legolas answered. Erestor had not even spotted him until now as the elf prince was even paler and more slender than last time that he had seen him. He was jumping from tree to tree and tried to massacre orks in the most violent way. His clothes were already drenched in brown blood, but he lusted for more.

* * *

Tom Sandyman could really not be bothered with any more of those queer stories and tales that now arrived from all over the place. Ever since the dwarves had suddenly marched into The Shire, strange riders came and went, most of them human or elvish. They talked with the dwarves, and then they continued on their journey. Most Hobbits did not ask where their journey would lead, and Tom was the least of all interested in that.

He had become an old Hobbit now, and all he wanted was his peace. To get it, he went to The Green Dragon at Bywater every evening and ordered a large pint of peace, also called freshly brewed beer by the Brandybuck family. In recent days, his peace, however, felt disturbed as dwarves frequented the inn as well. He had nothing against other folk, as he was used to seeing them at The Prancing Pony, but that was in Bree, and here at Bywater, it was strange seeing foreign lads.

Nevertheless, he sat down with his pint at the fireplace and began poking in the fire logs. Hamfast Gardner soon sat down next to him, also with a beer. "Strange sightings over Weathertop," he said and sipped at his drink.

"Strange sightings all over the place," Tom replied and left the fire alone. He turned to Hamfast. Then his gaze shifted to the entry of the pub where three large, hairy creatures entered who were nearly as wide as their were tall.

"Three big Gaffer's Home Brew," one could hear one of the dwarves shout in his dwarfish accent.

"Look, they're liking your grandfather's legacy," Tom said and laughed. He had known old Hamfast Gamgee, gardener in The Shire.

One of the dwarves seemed to have overheard Tom's comment and once they had received their drinks, he directed his friends over to the two hobbits. As dwarves were only slightly taller than the halfling-folk, they could sit down on their normal chairs, even though those creaked dangerously under the weight.

"Your Seanair invented these?" the tallest dwarf with long, red hair and a beard nearly as long as his head hair, asked.

Hamfast nodded. "Yes. We drink it on holidays and festivals to his honour," he explained.

"Aye, your grandpa must have been a wise man. And very hoachin' in his days," the brown-haired dwarf who was just as fat as the red hair one, said and gulped down half of his drink at once.

"We were just discussing the strange sightings over Weathertop," Hamfast Gardner explained.

"Oh yeah, there was a man-rider today who came from there," the red-haired dwarf said. "He explained that something came down from the sky. That no one now dares to go near Weathertop, but that strange creatures go there."

"No one goes there but strange creatures? That would be half the Shire," Tom said and laughed at his own joke.

"Only twallies would go there," the brown-haired dwarf said.

"Orcs, spiders, flies, wargs, even Uruks," the red-haired dwarf added.

Tom looked at Hamfast with an uneasy look on his face. These were exactly the news he did not want to get in The Shire. Especially not after a long day of work in which he ignored anything funny or queer.

"Are you not here to keep all those creatures away from us?" Tom asked.

"Aye. But only when they attack you," the red-haired dwarf agreed. Like on command, a dwarfish horn was blown. It was the horn of battle. The red-haired, the brown-haired, and the silent dwarf all jumped up and ran out within a matter of seconds – several seconds.

Tom and Hamfast looked at each other. "They'll protect us," Tom said and drank his beer.

Hamfast was not so sure.

* * *

Maim, the red-haired dwarf, came to a sudden halt, and Laim, his brown-haired brother, bumped into him.

"Watch your step," Maim complained and looked at Dimli, the dwarf that had blown the horn. Many dwarves had gathered around him, and nearly all the hobbits had fled into their holes or homes or inns. There was one particularly tall figure though which confused Maim.

"Who's that?" Laim asked and Maim shrugged. The three dwarves stumped forwards to the gathering of other dwarves and the tall person.

"What's all that noise about?" Laim wanted to know. He was louder than most other dwarves.

"Dimli blew the horn because he thought we were being attacked," a really short dwarf, who probably had and disputed any hobbit relationship, answered. "Just because he saw a tall elf coming out of the woods. As if we were afraid of the elves."

"We're even helping the elves," another dwarf joined in.

"We all have the same goal," the calm voice of the tall elf spoke from above them. All the dwarves shut up and looked at the tall figure. He did stand out with his long, white robes. He even seemed to be shimmering in the lack of moonlight. "We need to cast out evil from our lands and defeat Morgoth once and for all." His voice roared through the night, and many hobbits, who missed the sound of clinging swords, dared to peak out of their hiding places again.

"Morgoth will soon pass through these lands and nothing can stop him," the wise elf spoke with a sad face. "The prophecy foresees him reach the Undying Lands and fight the battle of all battle on these grounds. The Shire only lies in his way."

"We will defend our home," one keen Hobbit, probably a Took, shouted. Some hobbits who had never done any fighting in their lives except for arguing about the last carrot on the marketplace yelled in agreement.

"Morgoth and his orc army will overrun these lands. The only question is whether he will kill its inhabitants on his way or not," the dark haired elf said.

"Then what do you suppose?" Faramir I, the son of Peregrin Took asked. He pushed himself through the crowd. "What do you suppose, Lord Elrond?"

* * *

The sun rose over Rivendell and finally, the fires could be extinguished. Glorfindel was busy sorting and organising supplies and horses and men, when suddenly a shout reached him. He was standing in front of the down-valley horse shed when he saw Erestor rushing towards him. The blonde elf took the hand in front of his eyes as the sun was blinding him.

"What is it, Erestor?" Glorfindel asked and then spotted more elves running around agitatedly.

"Gollum," Erestor replied out of breath. He must have been running up and down the many buildings of the city in order to find Glorfindel. "He has been found."

"What?" Glorfindel asked. He could not believe what he was hearing. That slimy creature had not been seen by a living soul ever since Frodo had failed to cast the ring into the fires of Mount Doom. "Where is he?" He began rushing towards the upper buildings and Erestor had problems keeping up with his pace.

"He is being brought into the interrogation chambers. Thranduil has been informed as well." Erestor expected a storm to break lose at the mention of the Elven-king's name but Glorfindel ignored him.

The Elven-lord stopped and the brown-haired elf bumped into him. "Ready the horses. Ration the supplies. Organise the troops," Glorfindel commanded and continued alone to the so-called interrogation chambers. Those were actually a house built behind the main buildings, far from anyone living, and carved half into the mountains. They were seldomly used as the deep elves were a peaceful people – despite their past.

Glorfindel spotted the blond-shimmering hair of Thranduil right away. He was just watching how the small, not remotely hobbit-like creature was strained to a table. The servants left and let the two blonde elves alone.

"Do you think he can be of any help?" Glorfindel asked.

Thranduil did not bother to turn to him but continued staring at the grey, vile halfling screaming and shouting. "Shut up," he roared and surprisingly, Gollum did shut up. He probably remembered Thranduil, and he remembered how Gandalf had threatened him to talk many years ago.

Gollum watched the elegant Elven-king with his big, round eyes. His whole body was trembling but he dared not squeak a sound.

"What were you doing near this city?" Thranduil spoke and his deep voice echoed from the cave walls.

"Fishing… we was fishing… we was hungry," Gollum replied, now his eyes started to uneasily swift from the left to the right and back.

Thranduil wanted to inquire further, but suddenly a shadow appeared in the door, darkening the inside.

"The leaders' council is awaiting you, King Thranduil," Erestor said and bowed half-officially.

"Fine. You take care of this scum," the Elven-king said and left the brown-haired Ñoldorin alone with the grey creature.

"What _were_ you doing?" Erestor asked. "You can go fishing everywhere there is a river."

Gollum began to squeak again even though no one had even hurt him yet. "We feels alone. We feels so alone," he cried. "The ring is gone from us and now it is only me… and me." His yells were reduced to a sobbing that was painful to watch. He had not had the ring in years, but he had not recovered from the things that it had done to him. Erestor felt pity and slowly walked towards the whining gestalt.

"The ring is gone, Gollum," Erestor said softly.

Apart from an additional sob, there was no other sound from Gollum.

Erestor sighed and began to bind him lose from his restrains.

Gollum began to talk, "we hears much. Men are in anguish, dwarves are restless. People move all over the lands. Then there was lights, bright lights. It hurt Gollum in his eyes. It was near Weathertop. Vile creature followed it. Orcs and spiders and birds, they all went there. We wanted to go there, but then I said no, no. We cannot go there. We ran, we ran very far. We wanted to hide in our caves again, in the mountains. On our way there, we was caught here."

"Is this all?" he asked, referring to the story.

"I swears. I swears by myself. We told you the whole truth," Gollum squeaked.

Erestor nodded. "Good," he said and pulled up his pants. "I will tell the council."

"No need," a voice behind him said and he rushed around.

"King Thranduil!" Erestor's voice nearly swallowed itself. He fumbled his trousers closed and bowed, his head red ashamed.

"Gollum said he watched the return of Morgoth near Weathertop and this is what drew him near our town," Erestor explained.

"Good," Thranduil said and stepped closer to the grey creature that squatted on the floor in fear of the Elven-king. "Then we shall not need it anymore," the Sindarin elf decided and drew his sword. Erestor watched Gollum's head roll on the floor.

"Why did you do that?" he asked upset.

"As I said, there was no need for him anymore. Besides, you deserve at least a dwarf-mate," Thranduil answered sarcastically and wiped his sword clean. "I did it a favour, after all. Maybe a bigger than you did." He looked at the beheaded creature with an expression of full disgust on his face. He quickly turned to Erestor, then left the cave again. He had had enough of stinking caves or dungeons in a while and went to search Glorfindel. He lusted for some action in a proper bed before they would soon be on their way riding and camping.

Chapter 20

After dinner, the elves went to bed fairly early for their standards. They knew they had stressful days of riding ahead and wanted to be as fit as possible. Glorfindel and Thranduil, however, knew that they would use this short time of privacy for intimate togetherness. The blonde elf-Lord invited the King into his chamber which was located in Elrond's house, but luckily out of earshot from the twins'.


	9. Chapters 21 & 22

**These last two chapters were not censored. There may hence be some references in there, but it is still PG13-rated.**

Chapter 21

The ride past Weathertop was less exciting than anticipated. The grass and bushes on the watchpost were burnt and they did not need the skills of the readers of tracks to interpret the many paths that lead to and from the landmark. Many creatures had followed Morgoth's summoning and set out with the Dark Lord towards the East.

Glorfindel feared for the elves that had been residing peacefully at the Grey Havens, building ships for those that sought a life East and keeping out of the troubles that befell Middle-Earth. They did not reach the coast to see that something terrible had already happened. Not even near Bree, they already saw the piles of smoke reaching to the sky at the horizon. King Thranduul commanded to increase the pace, but even he knew that they were most probably too late. They rested only a few hours at night, and there was no singing or story-telling, only silent supper and silent sleep. Neither Glorfindel nor Thranduil uttered a word about their intimate relation, even when they were alone and sleeping very close to each other.

When they passed Bree, Glorfindel hardly recognised the once so multicultural village. By now, it had been reduced to a homogeneous pile of rubble. They could not tell apart the Hobbits from the Dwarves or the Men from the Elves for that most bodies had been mutilated or stomped to death by a multitude of heavy feet.

At first they had hope to find survivors, but in the end, the dishearted elves climbed back onto their horses again and continued their ride in silence. Legolas had been asked by Thranduil to ride next to him, and he obeyed; neither of them had spoken a word though. Glorfindel felt uneasy with father and son not talking, but it was not his place to mention anything. Even the twins of Elrond kept their silence. The death of their father had begun to break even their usually happy nature.

The only sound that could be geard was the pace of the horses feet, the movement of the elves in their saddles, and the wind in the air. About a day from Eastfarthing, it began to rain. And as the saying goes, it poured. No one commented the sudden change of weather, and the mood dampened even more. The elves continued their trip without any change of action, they had come past caring. The only positive outcome was that the fires that they had spotted began to be extinguished.

It was early evening, but the sun was already setting, when the first legion arrived at Hobbiton - or rather, what was left of it. Most structures that had been built of wood were nothing more than piles of smoldering logs. Puddles that formed had mixed the ashes with the earth and left the ground covered in grey mud. The fields had been devastated as if hundreds and hundreds of Orcs had rushed through them - which was probably exactly what had happened. The air was thick and the elves put wet cloths over their mouths and noses. Foul smell was in their air and the smoke hurt their eyes.

Legolas slid inelegantly down from his horse. He had been friends with Hobbits and Dwarves, he had even been to Hobbiton once or twice. Seeing it now burnt to ashes was an additional toll on his heart. With wobbly knees he walked towards the rests of once had been a famous inn and pub. Like the other elves, he started to dig into the piles of rubble and try to uncover whatever lay beneath them. Something that could tell a story of the disaster that had come to pass in this land.

But soon, the cries of all elves were the same, "no bodies!" and "there are no bodies here!" and "I found a dead rabbit!" and "that one was dead before, you fool!".

Legolas fell onto his knees. The mud splashed aside, but he was covered in it already. His clothes hung soaked on his body and his hair stuck to his face. "No deaths... they fled," he muttered.

King Thranduil gathered all Captains and Lords on the former market place. The elves waded through mud and debris, nothing had been left intact, not even a hammer or a knife was found on the ground.

As for a while no one spoke, Glorfindel suddenly realised, "scorched earth."

"I beg you pardon?", a woodland Captain asked.

"Scorched Earth Policy," Glorfindel repeated louder.

"It's a tactic used by Men centuries ago. When anticipating an inevitable strike by the enemy, the Men burnt down their own villages, destroyed all roads and bridges and tools and food and everything that could serve the enemy once they had reached their land. That way, the enemy cannot scavenge the villages and stock up their own food supplies," Elrohir explained.

"It served moderately well even against Orc armies that had plagued Men in the second age. Our dad - our dad had been the one to introduce this tactic to them," Elladan added.

"I am not aware that any dwarf or Hobbit would be aware of it," Erestor muttered.

They all looked at the desolation around them. There was indeed nothing of use left.

"That would explain why there are no bodies here," Legolas commented. If there was the smallest possibility of hope, he wanted to cling to it. He needed anything that he could count on as his thoughts were shattered like a glass on the ground. He could not think straight and everything and nothing was happening at the same time. While riding, he could barely name his thoughts and the past days felt like a smear of rain on the window. He did not feel the cold or the rain on his skin. He was soaked wet and dirty, but he cared for nothing. All he hoped for was to get his revenge on the blue wizard for taking his love from him. And the more Orcs he would slaughter on the way, the better.

"If the followers of Morgoth's army cannot replenish their food supply, they might start to eat each other," an Imladris Captain said.

"But where is everyone?" another Captain asked.

"Hiding," Thranduil suggested. "Out of the way of Morgoth. They must have known that they did not stand a chance."

"But can you imagine the dwarves withdraw?" Glorfindel asked. He was still doubting the whole explanation. "There must have been a voice of reasoning here. But I for my part cannot imagine a dwarf with reasoning."

"We will find out what occured one way or the other. For now, we should continue on our way west. We have wasted too much time here already," Thranduil concluded. It was enough to send the heads of the troops back and within an hour, they were all saddled again and heading towards the Grey Havens.

They passed more smoldering fields and debris and burnt down houses on their way. The rain was doing a great job on extinguishing the flamed, but there was nothing alive anywhere to be seen. The landscape looked like a battle field that had surrendered uncondiionally to the yellow-red warriors. The tree in Bag End was still standing but the leaves had all burnt and the trunk looked grey and sad and fragile.

Legolas did not know whether he was actually crying or not for his cheeks were wet anyway. Even Glorfindel could only swallow hard at the sight of the once so merry Hobbit settlements. He was reminded of the fall of Gondolin and how the elf-kingdom had been reduced to nothing but legend. He hung his head and focused on the road instead. His blonde mane, which he usually kept open and flying in the wind, was tied into a braid that clung to his soaked clothings. Elves could not feel the cold, but it was an emotional cold that overcame them now.

They travelled until they had come to the first hills before the Blue Mountains and it had become too dark even for an elf to see. As they feared to be ambushed by the enemy, they did not lit fires. In silence, they nibbled their bread and lay down. It had not stopped raining and the earth was soaking wet. Most elves had realised, that as dirty as they were, it would not make a difference anymore, so they chose their wet bags as a pillow and lay down. Night guards walked around to keep looking for the enemy and to make sure no landslide or puddles would drown the elves in their sleep. Many elves, however, among them also Legolas, Glorfindel, and the twins, could not find any rest that night. Glorfindel decided to take voluntary watch, the twins cuddled with each other very close to spend some solace, and Legolas finally managed to cry himself to sleep, even though it was only an hour before sunrise.

The night was without further incidents, and in the morning, the sun reappeared. But when they saw the White Tower and the city of the Grey Havens appear behind the Blue Mountains around which they rode, they knew that Morgoth had been here. The White Tower had been turned into a torch that the rain had extinguished by now. The land was barren and dead, but already from afar they could spot the corpses. The closer they came, the more bodies they recognised. Most had been reclaimed by the wet earth and were muddy. They paved the way and became impossible not to tread on. It was not only elves from the Grey Havens that lay here, but Men, Dwarves, and Hobbits were among the fallen. However, they did not count even nearly enough bodies to account for all citizens living between Bree and here. They did not rest to discuss the matter or to search for survivors though.

They rode on until they the first riders were halfway through the city, when an elf of the last troop suddenly blew her horn. Everyone stopped, and Thranduil and Glorfindel looked at each other. Had they walked into a trap?

"You stay here," the king ordered his son and the Peredhel twins. He and Glorfindel turned and made their way through the soldiers who stepped away to let their commanders pass.

It took them a good half an hour to reach the end of the joined Elf troops and it did not look like they were being attacked which eased Glorfindel's mind a bit. But suddenly, when passing the last lines, and coming around piles of rubble and debris which once must have been a noble guesthouse, he could not believe his eyes. There were maybe two dozen of dwarves and hobbits, all in battle armour, as well as several Men standing in front of them. And behind them, an army of even more Western folk came trotting down from a hiding place in the Blue Mountains, making their way for the coastline.

But what caught Glorfindel's eyes then, he could not believe and needed to blink several times and pinch himself. There, among the Small People, stood a very tall person, taller than the rangers and the Men who had come for aid. Unlike the others, he was dressed in white robes, and he had long, open brown hair, and a kind smile on his face.

"Elrond," Glorfindel muttered in disbelief and demounted his horse. "Elrond!" he repeated and began storming towards his old friend. He stopped right in front of him, hesitant to approach him. "Is it... is it you?" he asked, too scared to hope.

"It is me, my friend, and I shall greet you from Mandos," the half-elf replied and opened his arms. Glorfindel did not realise how tears ran down his cheeks when he entered the hug of the Peredhel. He embraced him long and deeply; he had never thought he would become so emotional.

"Was it... you... with the idea of the scorched earth policy?" Glorfindel asked and stepped back.

Thranduil had now also climbed off his horse and joined them.

Elrond nodded. "There was no point in fighting. And after some persuasion, the Hobbits did come to terms with the sad idea that the only way for their civilisation to continue was to destroy everything they had."

"The lack of supplies and food did slow the enemy down," a red-haired dwarf added. He was standing close to the half-elf and just reached half of his height. "Maim is my name, son of Dern. At your service," he added and bowed. "Many men were weakened when they arrived here and were easy to kill. Not so much luck with the Orcs and Wargs and Birds. They headed North, and our spies found that there were dozens of ships carried from the dark woods to the water."

"It seems like the enemy is ahead of us and we can only hope that we will not come too late," Elrond agreed. "For that we must leave right away."

"Leave to where? There are no ships here at the harbour," Thranduil suddenly found his voice again. He, too, was very glad about Elrond's rebirth; it relieved him of the duty of caring for his grieving son which he found he would not have been able to.

"We sent messengers ahead to the elves of the Grey Havens. They hid the boats south from here. I will guide you. The dwarves and men and hobbits have all agreed to join us. At the end of all times, the people of Middle-Earth shall stand together," Elrond said, and while he talked, he pointed to a path along the south side of the gulf. "We must hurry," he added.

Thranduil and Glorfindel agreed. They recalled the head of the troop to the end and set out for a new way towards the hidden ships. Maim led the party, and the Hobbits and Dwarves and Men followed the elves.

Legolas, however, climbed down from his horse at the sight of Elrond and made two steps towards him before he sacked down and fell into his knees. Elrond rushed forwards and when he helped his lover up, his own robes became muddy and dirty at the bottom. Legolas cried a river and leaned into Elrond, just leaning and crying. Now, also the top part of Elrond's clothing became stained. He did not care. He simply put his arms around the blonde elf and let him cry. Neither of them cared for the soldiers who rode or walked past them. Neither of them cared for anything for a little while.

When Legolas sobs had died, he dared to look into the grey eyes of his love. Elrond gently fondled his cheek. "I returned for the battle of all battles. We will defeat Morgoth and then we can live the rest of our life together in peace", the Peredhil said.

"But your wife... Celebrían...," Legolas stammered and burst into tears again.

"I have never loved her like I love you," Elrond said and bent forward. He pressed his lips on Legolas' for a gentle kiss like he had never experienced before.

Chapter 22

The sails were set, and the elves boarded calmly. They could still make out the enemy fleet at the horizon, so they hurried. It was a hurry unlike any dwarf would understand: a tranquil hurry. What would chaos bring them? When they had all stepped aboard, there was still room left. First, the men joined them and then some dwarves. Not all of them were willing to risk their lives for their once so great enemy and some were frightened by the prospect of not returning to their beloved middle-Earth. But then, some hobbits, mainly descendants from the late Peregrin Took, also hopped onto the wooden sailing vessels.

The journey was long, but Elrond spent most of it below decks. He had his own small quarters apart from the other elves who were crouching with the dwarves and men and hobbits. The wise half-elf wished the voyage would last forever as he was finally happy with Legolas. He did not think about how to break this to his wife or what would expect them at the shores. But sooner than he had hoped an elf shouted "land!" and everyone rushed to the upper deck. It was not so much land but rather fire. Elrond's heart dropped at once. Aman was burning. Alqualondë was already reduced to a pile of smouldering rubble. Tol Eresseä, a small hill in the water just before the coast, was set alight like a beacon. The closer the ships came, the more details the arriving warriors could make out: Elves screaming, orcs scavenging, houses burning, acres treaded down.

Elrond's eyes were filled with tears and his cheeks wet when he put on his battle armour. He had last time worn this when encountering the Nazgûl at Dol Guldur. He looked to Legolas whose eyes were red as well. His face was filled with anger that did not match the fair stature of his lover. His once green clothing was dirty with soil and blood, but he was obviously lusting for more.

"We will make them pay," he whispered to Elrond. "We will avenge middle-Earth and Aman and everyone who has fallen at their hands. Together, we shall fight until the end, until every orc is slain and Melkor is not among the living anymore. And if it is the last thing we do." He bent forward and kissed Elrond one last time before the boat was reaching the coast line of Aman. Some boats went to Alqualondë to see what could be saved, but theirs was harbouring at Tirion from which also smoke columns were rising into the evening sky.

"I would hold a long speech to boost our spirits, but the chances are small, and the view is grim," Elrond shouted so that everyone would hear him. "Middle-earth was already left a battle ground, and now our enemy is attacking our Promised Land. We cannot much save our fields, our acres, our wives, our husbands or our children for nothing is sacred to him. Hence our motif shall be revenge. Revenge those of your family, your kin, your beloveds who have fallen. Revenge the fields and houses that Melkor and his servants have burnt. Revenge Lothlórien for having been the first elven kingdom to have fallen. Revenge Gondor for having been the first war that we lost. Revenge the Iron Hills for having been the first to succumb to the rising power of the East. Revenge Frodo who had been our last hope to save our lands and who had failed because of the betrayal of the Istari. Revenge Mithrandir and Aiwendil for having been the only Istari true to their mission. Revenge everything you hold dear. Revenge!"

And with that the boats ran upon the sand and the elves and men and dwarves and hobbits jumped into the shallow waters in an alliance that would have been impossible years ago. Their battle cries were heard up to Valmar, a city beyond the Pelóri mountain wall, where Celebrían was running hopelessly away from the Two Trees in a desperate hope for salvation. She could hear the screams of her elven kin being slain and she feared for that every single living creature had already met their end in middle-Earth. But when she heard the yells of attack and of vengeance, she turned around. Her Elven eyes could not see so far, but her heart told her that her husband had finally followed her.

"Elrond," she muttered and suddenly her fighting spirit returned. She held her sword high and met the attacking goblins. Hence, the fleeing elves turned around and fought their way for everyone had a beloved who had not set over the sea yet. And so it was between Valmar and Tirion that Elrond and Celebrían finally saw each other again. Their gazes met among the burning trees, the plundering Orcs, the courageous hobbits and valiant dwarves that fought for the elves' realm. Even the Valar and among them the eight mightiest, the Aratar, were fighting with all their power. One after another, the cities fell, the acres burnt, the Maiar came to aid, but died like the Istari who had dwelt in the physical world.

Elrond ran towards his wife out of duty and guilt, but when he arrived, she was pierced by many arrows and sacked into his arms. "My…," was all he could say before he broke and sacked onto his knees. She wanted to tell him something, but her eyes died before she could mouth a word. "Revenge," Elrond muttered, "for there is nothing else left in this world."

"I am," Legolas shouted at him. The young elf princeling was rushing by, spending arrow after arrow but replenishing his supply with the many arrows that were stuck in the fair elven bodies.

"For you then," Elrond decided and stood up. "For our love to endure. We will build a new place." He swung his sword again, and at that moment, a lightening stroke the Two Trees so bright and powerful that the whole sky was set alight. And in the flash that broke the trees and split their trunks into many pieces, the last warriors of the prophecy appeared: **Eärendil**, Elrond's biological father and sailor of the sky with a Silmaril, for he had to avenge that Melkor had kept both sun and moon from returning. All the light that was still illuminating the battlefield, was the fire of the beautiful continent. Next to him had appeared with the flash **Túrin**, a man who had committed suicide in the First Age but was now set to end all evil. Behind them appeared **Manw****ë**, leader of the Ainur and King of Arda, and **Eonwë**, his Maia servant and banner-bearer.

All four of them looked at the terror that unfolded in the sacred lands and grabbed their swords and began to fight the orcs and goblins and creatures of shadow. Elrond ran towards Valmar where the greatest shadow of all was fought in the ruins of the city. Melkor was standing on the highest tower and killing everyone who came close to him. Legolas' arrows rebounded with no effect and the spears just went through the powerful Valar. It was then that a second flash came down onto the marketplace of the city: Tulkas, an Ainur who needs no weapon, came down and began to wrestle the evil creatures with his bare hands.

"All is fulfilled for the Second Prophecy," Elrond muttered. At that moment, Manwë and Eonwë rushed past him to join the desperate fight.

Eärendil, however, stopped next to him. "My son," he said, and a tear dropped from his eye.

"Father?" Elrond asked. He had hardly any memory left of him. And while father and son finally united could hug and be one, Túrin, the earliest Man-hero reached the highest tower to engage Melkor, the earliest villain of the entire Eä.

"You have plunged the world into darkness after darkness and all the shadows that have ever existed were your doing," Túrin spoke at which Melkor only laughed.

"I am the rightful Lord over the world, and I shall be its ruler for evermore," Melkor answered at this and attacked.

Túrin was a good swordsman, and for his reincarnation Mandos had given him greater power. Therefore, after a long fight that lasted the rest of the night, he succeeded in stabbing Melkor with Gurthang. His heart burst and the mighty Lord fell to the ground. His scream was so loud that it could be heard in the Shire of Middle-Earth if only there had been anyone left. When he fell, the earth trembled like an earthquake and when his body hit to the ground, it shattered into a million pieces.

His death went not unnoticed and so all vile and dark creatures fell to the ground and began begging for their lives. Many were spared and brought to justice. But the blood that had been spent and soaked the soil could never be undone. And so the battle of all battles came to an end and the darkest evil was eradicated from Eä.

The shouts and celebration of victory, however, failed to appear for even the dwarves just fell onto their knees, tired and in despair. So much had been lost, so many lives sacrificed. There was never a winner in war. The days, the weeks that came were spent in silence as the bodies were taken care of, messengers were sent, fires were put out, that which could be salvaged, was taken, and cities had to be cleared of rubble and built anew. And so it came that all remaining folk of Middle-earth and Aman came to a necessary peace and even more than that: They all worked together to create a new Paradise, the Undying Lands. And not only Aman was rebuilt, so was The Shire and Gondor and Rohan and the forests. All was redone and renamed and all who survived remembered the toil and pain that were the columns of their new civilisation.

Time passed and generations of men as well, but the elves and dwarves and Valar stayed. And so, after far too long a wait, many weddings took place in the new biggest city of Aman, beneath the new Two Trees that had been planted: Elrond Eärendilion and Legolas Thranduilion finally wed, and Galion and Lindir who had found love during the worst of times.

"I would have never thought I could become so happy in my life," Legolas noted when the party was at its highest point and everyone was drinking Dorwinion and Shire brew.

"Maybe so," Thranduil said. "But there is something I have to tell you," he added with heavy heart and sighed. "Your mother never died."

Before Legolas could take in enough air to react, Thranduil raised his hand. "I will explain, my son, but please, be not angry. The times were different and what was allowed and what was frowned upon was complicated. You see, now that Galadriel is dead, I want you to know that the marriage between Galadriel and Celeborn had been forced upon them by Finarfin, father of Galadriel, who had been very strict. Before that, Celeborn and I had a relationship. At a time when he was still openly allowed to be a female. Then he was to wed Galadriel, who is actually a man. And when she [Celeborn] gave birth to you, it would have been a scandal that would have denied us not only passage to Aman, but we would have also been banished from all the discovered lands. So we kept it secret. And I kept it a secret from you which I should not have done. I am sorry and I hope you can forgive me, my son."

Legolas' mouth was still open when Elrond forced it shut. "I…," he stammered. "Oh father, why have you never told me? I have always been so angry at you for keeping my mother out of my life, I would have understood you better!" And he jumped into the open arms of his father, and finally, they became father and son as they should have been centuries ago.

And when the sun rose again, which they thanked for every morning as they remembered a time when it had not, they all had sex.

The end.

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